Andrew Zawacki

Viatica (5)

this the partition and this
its departure: a language that limped

with death inside, an angel, a fire,
an angel, a foe: and a name

that limped with a name inside
and rested between us, wresting

us from us: edgewater and a cappella,
pillar of cloudwarp, pillar of fear,

and whithersoever a scapegrace
flees the voice that fled from him:

no one of cerement, no one of caul,
recursive in a tailored wind

that shuttles back and forth
across the bay: the sun was the sun

and the moon was the sun, and he
was a cloud of witness unto the sun,

the scald, a chorus of sunlight,
the faithlessness of its veer:

o sorrow of cobalt o sainfoin
o stone, this current that picks up trash

as it crawls, to scatter it farther down
along the coast: with death inside,

both of us deathward,
angel my enemy, nowhere my name