Implosions

The world's

not wanton

only wild and wavering

I wanted to choose words that even you

would have to be changed by

Take the word

of my pulse, loving and ordinary

Send out your signals, hoist

your dark scribbled flags

but take

my hand

All wars are useless to the dead

My hands are knotted in the rope

and I cannot sound the bell

My hands are frozen to the switch

and I cannot throw it

The foot is in the wheel

When it's finished and we're lying

in a stubble of blistered flowers

eyes gaping, mouths staring

dusted with crushed arterial blues

I'll have done nothing

even for you?