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Underneath (Libation)

American Poetry Review, The, Nov/Dec 1999 by Graham, Jorie

Look the middle period.

Where will the council be tomorrow.

Where will tomorrow

offer prayers to.

Disperse question-marks.

Know what you write of.

Very tired. Speak of.

It is morning it is evening.

Murmur names little exiles.

How many syllables is your nation?

How pronounce it?

Who first spoke it?

Is it the third or the other world?

Could it be mistaken for a book?

Or sadness?

Or a path turned to mud?

Or the hunter who is hunted?

Somewhere in the audience

something not human.

If anything is real then this is real.

The fires burn all the way down

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from their mouth the one war.

Hadn't it seemed eternal,

the one war?

With your mouth now

bear in mind.

The one who acts must suffer.

Who rules the house?

Persuasion