Brahmin Bay

from my upcoming collection She the Impossible Thing

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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je ne encore pas juste à la fin

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(c) dustin botta 2016

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