Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2020  Vol. 19 No. 2
an online journal of literature and the arts
 print preview

Watch the Lame Beast Turn
     from elegy for simone weil

it must be pure, but not a proof—

a glass waiting, tied as fret-lens
to the field’s scabby haunch—

without war comes
nothing burning, shadow-leavens
in their tollhouses

lean against that spacious drum—

its resinous anthem—
contagious, as every act affirms—




in the eaves & at the altar, the /I/
bears a pilot’s breath
taken deep through clear flame—

house-to-house go
the ripe kings with their candles—

I set the traps—

at vespers, for the ferrous dead—  

return to top