River of Milk

bear with me      it wasn’t long ago I was brainless lazily pulling fireflies into my teeth       chewing them into pure light       so much of me then was nothing I could have fit into a sugar cube      my body burned like a barnful of feathers        nothing was on fire but fire was on everything       the wild mustard the rotting porch chair         a box of birth records        eventually even scorched earth goes green       though beneath it the dead might still luxuriate in their rage     my ancestor was a dervish saint     said to control a thick river of dark milk under his town        his people believed he could have spared them a drought       they ripped him to pieces like eagles tearing apart a snake    immediately they were filled with remorse       instead of burying him        they buried a bag of goat bones and azalea      my hair still carries that scent my eyes      black milk and a snake’s flicking tongue does this confuse you       there are so many ways to be deceived a butcher’s thumb pressed into the scale       a strange blue dress in a bathtub    the slowly lengthening night      I apologize I never aimed at eloquence      I told my mother I wouldn’t live through the year       then waited for a disaster      sitting cheerfully on cinder blocks pulled from a drained pond      tossing peanuts to squirrels     this is not the story she tells     hers filled with happy myths       fizzy pistons and plummy ghosts it’s true I suppose       you grow to love the creatures you create some of them come out with pupils swirling       others with teeth