Classic Poem

Gesture

Have you known the roar of an estranging city,
freeways braided round the head's dome, traffic
a throbbing wound to the ear, you have seen
genderless ancients wade through mild rivulets
of shadow that pass beneath overpasses, pick
through peelings of houses, finding gold only
in the yellowed rinds shucked from oranges.
As they sift for treasure shed from our rooms,
I fall to love a thought: my ghastly head raised.
But this species of story makes of one a servant.
Have you known the roar of an estranging city,
is only another way of saying, I was defeated .

Translation

Behold your head, a hive the bear's pawed down
from its bough, smashed to ground for sweetness,
honey leaking a yellow jasper. Its furious center
dispelled, now all of you is leaving. This is how
the self turns on self, goes vagabond, this is how
you are repaid for your industry. Their domicile
dismantled, thoughts now roam the air like aimless
troops, seeking recompense in the sticky jewels
of an empty soda can, crawl into its lip's sweet
keyhole, cannot make their way back out the dark.
I would have made for them a freedom song, if
the teller of this story had only a slave's loyalty.