DOMINION HELD AND ALTERED BY CHILDREN
Feral children leave the inside screens
to mime the screens outside, they rule
a world slightly outside, slightly inside this one
where they’re zealots, martyrs,
spies, slight climate kids in the state of Whoa –
twitch pivot point– a dance that’s the panic
of captives let out or a syndrome you want to know
if it’s the wind makes them different unstrung
puppets, makes their skin shivery if it’s the wind
makes them more or less afflicted in their want
to move and ruin stuff musically what
currency what fraction what reckoning
of the illuminated creatures under what gusts
of favor what gusts of catastrophe to be
the kids have knock offs of likenesses of dead
ringers of guns they point and squeeze
long liquid arcs from they have in mind
machines men use and foes
and echoes, smoke, rarefactions, valves open
and shut, absences as in truancies,
vacancies, vacuums, ghosts, where are the folks
you want to know the body beside itself
here and elsewhere in the city the wind obliterates
the space between the south side and the near
east side, self-storage, overpass, bus station
name one that isn’t a windless end
of times, hasn’t been made of wind by wind
and wind made by variance of have
and have not, pressure and absence sway and size
of the aperture you see kids being feral
kids through whose fur gets matted by cool
streams from the liquidators. Is it real or not
you and the law want to know when its drawn
force or not, heat or not, kids
in their ecstatic packs before wind breaks them
into ones you take aside and give
the talking to about skin and color and power
You want a story with a cool arc
and a swerve, a man strapped or stopped as a reprimand
a merciful, forgiving man, a woman
kids swarm under the street light, flapping
their wings then zombie walking
with loaded guns aimed at other brilliant
others rationing crackers from a box
fingering their automatic weapons.
