They Will Sew the Blue Sail

Wind-borne | Eléna Rivera

In canister  culverts  cavities

our words stay and fester

To renounce all, but all of what we do

As we jettison our bones

into the sea, into trenches, into

into the garbage the woman reached into

I get passionate about

the sky, noise, an elderly woman reaching

—gravity—That crazy need to eat

and a part of it coming and going

Make and destroy, the line-up, stacks

delivered and desire oblivious

All that detritus around the budding tree

What does it take to ‘accept the fact’

Damn, what do we leave, in the stream

Stripped in a strong wind,

dispensed with our reach within

—all that stuff to break our within

How can one not see that what goes in

the disposal, at your disposal,

reveals—“you must look things/in the belly”