"Bringing it Home."
Remember that phrase?
"A room all the way across America,
and a girl in the room, and the plastic fattening her breasts
starting to sag.
'Oh God,' she thinks, 'they're going.
Oh God.
Oh God.' I would do anything to help her.
I would take all of her secret pain
onto myself if she'd let me.
My best darling, it is your soul melting.
It is the fire in you.
I remember fire everywhere in the world, boys scratching
two sticks together so proud of themselves, and houses going up
in spontaneous combustion, or somebody using his lighter
and the girl locked in in back still touching
her fearful body.
You too my best darling.
And furnaces, men with sweat stung out of them,
faces cooked, broiled, smoked while they make things for us.
And in America in her two breasts,
the fires like gods, the two fires without flame,
and her voice, this flame, rising out of my throat.
It says, fuck you I don't care.
It says, up your ass too you weird faggots.
My best darling.