the bone that aches in the rain of lies
 
a turnip instead of cake
 
the fire that feeds on the breath of witnesses, even a stone, then speaks
 
the echo of her no in the outskirts and streets
 
the sword he brought instead of peace
 
the red coal an angel places on the tongue like a treat  
 
the sentence of his sentence
 
pennies worth more than gold
 
others, and then some
 
the tree with so many tongues that says, 
“The truth resides inside the wind and blows 
for those who hear it.”
 
a kiss on the cheek that doesn’t turn
 
the nerve that takes its stand by keeping its seat
 
the pauper in the park who says,
“Of these ends; it is the Right of the People to 
alter or abolish it.”
 
the bell that heals itself by ringing
 
a smile in the hole
 
the eye that sees when closed
 
waking, waking