after Tomaž Šalamun
Leather without history
is merely the skin of the dead
animals that once walked these fields.
Strength without rickets
can be seen on any playground.
Consider the appetite
of these children and remember:
blood is silk.
Walk silently away. Drop your empty
cup in the receptacle. Note
how the plastic helmet is stained brown
from where your lips drew coffee
out with a wet sound. Blood is like fruit.
Maybe spend a moment
thinking about the tanks and hunger
but keep moving.
There is no need to thrash yourself.
I know a doctor who can pull that
wire clean from your back. We
will roar and get excited soon enough.
Michael Bazzett has new poems forthcoming in New Ohio Review, Massachusetts Review, Pleiades, Salt Hill, Literary Imagination, and Prairie Schooner. He is the author of The Imaginary City, recently published in the OW! Arts Chapbook Series, and They: A Field Guide, forthcoming from Barge Press in early 2013. He lives in Minneapolis with his wife and two children.