The Territories of Noncompliance
The boundaries of disobedience
are not the boundaries of the great river,
no rain in weeks, it collapses
into the boundaries it has made for itself.
This morning the sky fills itself with granite,
thick and darkening, thunder and little else.
Somehow a rainbow etches the sky
and the runner ahead and the runner behind
lifts dust, their strides hungry for something,
but nothing comes. The trajectory of disobedience
is not the trajectory of the great river,
no rain in weeks, it cannot replenish itself
into the trajectory it has made for itself.
This morning the sky fills itself with gravel,
thick and threatening, thunder and little else.
The runners are thirsty, but their water
is a long way off. The disturbance in disobedience
is not the disturbance of the great river,
no rain for weeks, a disturbance of pools
and tall reeds left behind. This morning
the sky fills itself with galena, longing and anxiety,
thick and wanton, thunder and little else.
Down the path, the runners stop for water,
breathe in dust and pollen, a serendipity
of disobedience, anticipation, a way to go.
| Copyright © 2013, 2023 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
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