Ghazal for George

Minneapolis’ older twin city was lost that night,
not even the saint of lost things could find it that night.

You left your home, too. You had nowhere else to go, too,
save for the city which went down in flames that night.

I had a dollar, and it was my last one, too.
What should we have for dinner tonight?

What else is there but water and mother,
being and life-giving, true thing on this wild night?

We can transcribe a scene for 8 minutes, make it matter. Instead,
we held our breath for half a minute before we gasped that night.

We have mastered the coincidence of wants,
haunt want taunt want want want and went hungry that night.

All day long, just wanting
to get through the night.

This body that is built on the power of water, of grist, of floyd,
this air, this ground, this black matter, will rise again tonight.

Photo by Nicole Geri on Unsplash


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