I peel the night from its mothers skin: darkness,
barricade my mouth with smoke like letting
Letting euphoria-filled bodies fall into
A synchronous rest-sleep —slip into reality —
I, prayers by the mouth of a wound. I,
Wound by the mouth of a country. I, country
Beside the open-milky body of water —pour
Into the silence, pour into the noise.
I cast my suffering, atop the brown
Ruin of a war, I sing, in silence
Like lovers, on the verge of death.