Inside the Trojan Horse

And why a horse?

We loved our horses,
the velvet of their noses,
the knowing
in their eyes, our broken
stallions nuzzled us
and we dreamed
of drumming an unbroken land
braided with rivers,
so long infested with invaders—

And where did the invaders lie?

In an unworded silence

in the stifling interior

in the belly of the animal—

And why?

Appetite—

And why?

It is always only appetite—

And if?

If only we had built
our buildings

as ruins,
it would have saved us

so much time—

And how thin was your hope?

Thinner than the skin
on warm milk as it cools

Thinner than the lilac-veined lids
drawn across a newborn’s eyes—

And how many of them were inside?

Few enough
that they kept
their mouths shut

More than enough
to shut ours

And, of course,
they opened the gates—

And how many of them were outside?

Thousands

They crawled the beach
on a moonless night
like turtles
in their armor

shreds of wool
were tucked
in the hinges
to deaden
any clanking

The wet sand
ate the sound—

And what did they carry?

A ten-year, aching, blue-balled
rage—

And what did they do?

What cannot be undone—

And what did they do?

They discovered
how high
you can fling a baby

They discovered
the sound
it makes

when it lands—

And where did the invaders lie?

Among us

Even as we celebrated, drinking
wine deep into the night,
they were always
there, among us—

And where did the invaders lie?

Deep in the courtyard
of the sacred temple—

And who put them there?

We did—

And who put them there?

We did.