Washington's Body
A child’s torso as a man,
Snow on his head
Gray eyes, (the other
Masons said he was a desert girl
A carcass coming now to Christ
Starved fifteen years in the desert and
Masculinized himself like a kippered
Herring) a heart,
Two hearts (“there’s something
Right with me,” he said) enwrapped
In hair (during the inaugural address).
A big mouth with teeth
That turned into trees
And streets, a cave so wide
That all the splinters stuck in it
Grew into wagons, cannons. When young
He bent the tree low to taste its black
Globular fruit, stuffed with syrup, ice-hard,
Body already portioned to what he would become,
And when the doctors of the revolution cut him up
They found paper, and tar, and,
Wrapped up in tea tree oil,
A second antiseptic man who wasn’t anyone
Charles Manson
The Cold War never dies.
My name is the man with the smiling eyes
I’d like to meet you, I know your name
I’ve played every one of the rooks in this game.
I know all the bishops
I know all the horses
(Their hooves wet and
Chuffed on the factory floor)
And I would like to know you —
I’m getting in my big car
I’m always getting on a plane or in someone new
You don’t have to believe it, it’s just a fact
I’ve made all the museums about you
I can’t wait to know you;
I’ve read a few books
I know how this looks.
My eyes are big and they shimmer like fish:
You don’t need to know where the wind blows
If you made the weather.
-- Noam Hessler is an American poet. They recently released a book called Officeparks. They live in New York and Vermont, and can be reached online via Twitter @poetryaccnt1518.
