Benjamin Buchholz The 2River View, 8.1 (Fall 2003)
Boxing for Army

I have uneven arms.

You’ll have to hold
          hands with me to tell it, though.

Left side, right side, left side again:
Weigh them like the Feather of Maat
          while we walk out from the Magnus
          and search for kissing shadows.

Boxing, I say.


Threw it out of joint mid-fight. Had to finish.


Oh. Oh. Oh.
A dove bends fatima from its locust potting:
          speaking is, at best, translation.

Before we kiss I breathe your breath
          so that I am filled with your wine darkness
          have this shield of air for when
          the high Caucasus beshabar rattles
          the flaps of my tent.

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