Once again we are in these woods
\nthat give boundary to the darkness.<\/p>\n
The hill is layered with grass, boxes,
\nin them, boys, both short and long<\/p>\n
dead. There sits a young man, alive,
\naround him the trees shokl, he holds<\/p>\n
a pack of cigarettes, which he bought
\nbecause the brand shares his family\u2019s<\/p>\n
name, smoke and pine, hey, Rothman,
\nmutter the maiden names of the hills,<\/p>\n
try to write a poem about what you saw,
\nfail, recoil, (you\u2019ll still be trying in a decade),<\/p>\n
now the wind is heavy so he looks around,
\nsees a cave, climbs into it, lights his name-<\/p>\n
sake smoke, inhales, writes, \u201cIf gummy
\nworms had spines they\u2019d be cigarettes,\u201d<\/p>\n
he sees a mattress in the cave, thinks that
\nmaybe he could make it part of his poem,<\/p>\n
which was meant to be about how it looked
\nlike a yellow animal (the bulldozer)<\/p>\n
sinking its big teeth into the family\u2019s
\nkitchen, how if I had a spine I would<\/p>\n
have stood in front of the bulldozer, how
\nif my life had taken two more right turns<\/p>\n
I would have been the boy with the gun
\nmarionetting a family into dance: back,<\/p>\n
away, now stop; it was their shoulders
\nthat angled and contorted, not the soldiers\u2019.<\/p>\n
The shame in your shoulders even now,
\nranging upwards as if to swallow your neck.<\/p>\n
Maybe the mattress-owner is still in the cave. <\/em> scared too, you\u2019re always scared these days, instead you smell acrid mattress smoke, and before you know it, Jerusalem
\nYou don\u2019t want to upset anyone, and you\u2019re<\/p>\n
\nso you scuttle out to inhale the scent of pine,<\/p>\n
\nyou realize you dropped your cigarette<\/p>\n
\nhad burned down<\/p>\n