Brahmin Bay

from my upcoming collection She the Impossible Thing


Devotion hovers just above swells of electric riff

There were no words, but a Brahman bay

It rose like gray smoke in wildfire over mountains


Kettledrums roar like growling stomachs, a hunger

Not of food, not of meat, but of something to sink

The canine teeth into and hold, lockjaw, and savor


What is a raindance like on the ocean? Turn it

Upside-down so mallets come pelting like hail

Thousands of maelstroms don’t soak like this


Saltwater cleanses the broad briar gashes

Rips from the claws, the tears that won’t close

Not in thirty and seven moons, and it don’t mend bones


Wilderness is natural, not homelessness, not heartbreak but

Reworking every stitch of every day to see those stars

To wish again on that familiar faraway light


To soften the tension of the drumheads and heal

The old Brahman bay, there are no lungs left to maul

But an inaudible fantastic lapse that says it all – over


je ne encore pas juste à la fin



(c) dustin botta 2016