I Never Did Cry \ Marked

Nancy: The deserts of the Southwest have seen so many deaths – even the map warned “Jornada del Muerto” on the contour lines of the land.  It was a place too dry for raindrops or tears. 

I Never Did Cry

I never did cry

there was a window

comings and goings

how do you feel

pain is private

why do the clouds hang on the mountains

leaving the basin dry

they’re waiting

screams are currency here

too many faces

is there anyone to call

dammit I can’t get a vein

the window is

gone

and the lightning flashes over the mountains

they told me

then

one day

when

I never did cry

but it rained, once

outside the window

you could watch the drops

disappear in the dust

Alan: Dystopia enters slowly, through innumerable tiny cracks and fissures, until finally – looking back, looking ahead – too late, we notice.

Marked

Marked from birth – leaf

foot, petal toes

pressed, printed,

tucked away –

if I wandered too soon

from life, my mother

would have at least

this to weep on.

One day we lined up

in class the nice

stranger dressed in blue

blue hat & shiny badge

inked our thumbs.  So if

we went off in the car

of another nice

stranger there would be

this of us left.

Another time I noticed

half-domes bulging

like Sputniks

from the ceilings of the

five-and-ten-cent store

chameleon-eyes watching,

tracking.  I was never

alone again.

Now they are everywhere,

slim swiveling boxes

recording; more – tiny –

hidden in walls, trees,

lights, eyewear, clothing,

under skin.

For a time barcodes

inventoried us like fruit

or dry goods.  QR codes

scanned to our personal

sites & histories.  Clumsy.

Gait, face, demeanor,

voice, iris, and finally

thoughts make everything

public or if not public

known to some.

Once it was enough

to be free or at least

uncaring.  It was that way

in post-war Honolulu

mid-50s Coronado

suburbs made for kids

on bikes, cul-de-sacs

and cut-throughs.

Now I know

how my sister died

and of the sadness

surrounding us.

Now I am secure

and can menace no one.

Now it is better.

They say, watching

and listening over me,

now it is better.

“Marked” is from a work in progress, Annals Of The Nearer Soon (preliminary title).