& all the boys melt like hot metal soaked in hellfire–

each torso a toe dipped into the murky water of what’s

been unknown for so long. they are seven layered molten rock, half liquid

and two thirds fire, a trembling before it has spread. in the sway, the jaw

unclenches, the fist unfurls; whatever has burnt in ash and smoke comes

back to love the flames, to beg them rekindle and wish them apart. we say

we come from men so still the birds mistook them for homes. we say the

birds never really left, knew the cold would come soon enough,

even with the forest alight, even with the skin sweat-soaked

& roaring. what is forbidden does not unbreak the dishes.

does not wash the dinner off the walls. what is forbidden

but the hips, untethered? unearthed from the burial they did not deserve?

we say we come from men, still, when we mean we come from coal, from abandoned nest too dry to save. we say we come still, like birds awaiting

winter, a whimpering before we have gone. our sons are

promised burning & so they burn, until the chorus arrives

with the wind, until the movement sets them free.

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