Someone broke into my eyes
and took what they could see,
took my breath and held it far too long––
the crowd for the hanging shook
the bird from every tree,
just to hear them scatter with a song
This is how we love and who we are
is what we know––
and let it be the killing floor’s small wonder
The moon out in the afternoon,
I ask her for a sign
––a story we might care to read aloud––
I follow the horizon
that rolls away in kind,
a fading light to lead me back around
This is who we are and
how we love is what we know––
and let it be the killing floor’s small wonder
We build this house already razed
by fire as we go,
its smoke a leaning ladder that we climb––
we clear the field around us
and cut it into rows,
and grow ourselves up by the fall of time
This is how we love and
who we are is what we know––
and let it be the killing floor’s small wonder