Bau has abandoned Iri-kug and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold. She has abandoned her flooded chamber and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold... The protective goddess of the holy house has abandoned it and has let the breezes haunt her sheepfold.
The Lament for Urim
White lions you are not mine. You were once
but I sped up, passed you in the mist.
That machine to force hard ground
from swamp, that ten-foot spider leg,
I’d wake up with the feel of it across my face:
Gunshots in the morning. Before coffee.
Before the quiet love of the couple upstairs,
reluctant to wake the baby.
I smiled round-cheeked at the flat hand of water.
Even then everything was dead, the woman running
in a red bathing suit, termites
crawling down my shirt, between my breasts.
A brown cloud against the streetlight
forced from the ground.
Was I stuck, dying, in the new spring night?
A mouth closed over my head.
Funereal air between their wings.
I abandoned you. I can do nothing herebut watch the water line rise to your curled paw.