ignatz invoked :: monica youn
A gauze bandage wraps the land
and is unwound, stained orange with sulfites.
A series of slaps molds a mountain,
a fear uncoils itself, testing its long
cool limbs. A passing cloud
seizes up like a carburetor
and falls to earth, lies broken-
backed and lidless in the scree.
Acetylene torches now snug
in their holsters, shop-vacs
trundled back behind the dawn.
A mist becomes a murmur, becomes
a moan rising from dust-choked
fissures in the rocks, O pity us,
Ignatz, O come to us by moonlight,
O arch your speckled body over the earth.