No Name

jails like
tunnels in blood

animals vanish
down tortuous paths
squeeze their bodies
into sewers

on beaches
body bags
sprawl slack in seaweed

the memory of your
childhood
that seaside light

you cannot see the
silver foxtails
in the forests

muscles rip
on the rack

what music
                         modulates
the glare?

voices, words, echoes

trace the whirlwind’s edge

foxtails under the
moon
in the forests

the scent of eucalyptus

beaches covered with
black bags

your blood squeezed
into the corridors
of arteries

in the furnaces

the national rituals

jail

exile

inxile

borders

but later

                         your blood

boiling

                         in revolt

I’m blind, I’m blind

give me a name

cover my eyes

shoot me, drown me

please, give me

a name

at the end

               the tunnel

light

               at the end

just that

everyday crimes

bags on the beaches
of your childhood               (can you see them?
                                               do you remember?
                                               did they tell you?)

masking the scent

of eucalyptus               (have you ever smelled it?)

in the silver forests
of moonlight
and the wind wailing
among the foxtails

jail

a name

the nation               (were you there? was I?
                                  did anyone tell me?)

between the margins

                         identity.