so that’s what it’s like to be a wheel
so that’s what it’s like to be tied to one of its spokes
while the rim screeches while the axle grinds
so that’s what it’s like to have the earth and heaven confused
to speak of the stars on the road
of stones churning in the icy sky
to suffer as the wheel suffers
to bear is unimaginable weight.

if only it were a honing wheel
I would have its sparks to see by
if only it were a millstone
I would have bread to keep my mouth busy
if only it were a roulette wheel
my left eye would watch its right dance in it

so that’s what it’s like
to be chained to the wounded rib of a wheel
to move as the hearse moves
to move as the lumber truck moves
down the mountains at night

*

what do you think my love
while the wheel turns

I think of the horse out in front
how the snowflakes are caught in his mane
how he shakes his beautiful blindfolded head
I think how in the springtime
two birds are pulling us along as they fly
how one bird is a crow

and the other a swallow
I think how in summertime
there’s no one out there
except the clouds in the blue sky
except the dusk in the blue sky
I think how in autumn
there’s a man harnessed out there
a bearded man with the bit stuck in his mouth 
a hunchback with a blanket over his shoulders
hauling the wheel
heavy as the earth

*

don’t you hear I say don’t you hear
the wheel talks as it turns

I have the impression that it’s hugging me closer
that it has maternal instincts
that it’s telling me a bedtime story
that it knows the way home
that I grit my teeth just like my father

I have the impression
that it whispers to me
how all I have to do
to stop its turning
is to hold my breath