We Are Here

We Are Here

Are you there, Richard—

painting the appalled tints

of your drenched father’s blood,

unseen by anyone

until the master stroke falls?

            From Broadmoor, faintly:

            I am here.

Are you there, William—

singing your brother’s soul to heaven

three days straight

as angels in the frosty hawthorn

applaud your feat?

            The Devil’s Deny

            is His greatest Lie:    

            Yes, I am Here!

Are you there, Yayoi—

wise chooser of asylum,

elective permanent retreat

where the feverish swarming dots

surge undefiled in fiber?            

            From a rice paper plane:

            I am here

            I am here.

Are you there, Xu Wei,

Vincent, are you there—

airless marauders of pearl               

from shells of glutinous striving  

for ocean’s moment?                       

            From a bower of grapes

            and unlaced boots:

            Yes, we are here.             

Are you there, Judy—

daubing holy rape

upon tissues of nightgown  

by bedsides in the undark ward     

where your smashed face shines?

            In murmur tinier than a fly’s:

            I am...here.

Are you there—

my years and heroes,

avatars of shatter and rebar,     

shard reconveners,

my undead selves your peers?

            Firmly, through the collapsed

            masonry, rubble’s echo climbs:    

            We are here. We are here.