THE VOICE

for Ben Lerner

Let alone
the words
birds won’t say
how love works
today is a bone
pulled apart by clouds
or the way the left
receives the right in praise
depending on the guesswork of sources
or the number of swords produced
let alone the word between
each spiral-headed letter S
promising bitterness in repetition
or burned for
forty straight hours
until squelched
by doves
they won’t say
they won’t leave
they don’t have to
I won’t let them
I’m only a voice here
burning on the very rumor
of these mute birds’ stuttered approach
and a voice loves to burn
so promise me one thing
no bitterness in repetition
as the flame gutters
closed like old
movie theater marquees
dropping letters
like swords
they won’t say
they won’t leave
they don’t have to
I won’t let them