For Abbey Clements and Opalina
They are
voices
overexposed
beautiful
coldly vulnerable
They are
blue angels
They are
drift
loose
Two pairs of hooked wires
hang from the branch
She chooses to be hooked
and by the hooks
raised up
And so
one after another
do they
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but not like this
not to the rhythm
a slow metronome
of sledge hammers on oil drums
pacing the muscles
the muscles lifting
lifting up the strange fruit
shame and vengeance
humiliation
hanging is not for hearing
it’s how you own the words
it is about power
and most of all
control
they become those Names
shame and vengeance
humiliation
become their power
become
and will
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it’s not now
not like this
Contrails over Gotham
ashes ashes
they both fall down
an un-designated London is calling
the strange fruit follows
into the night
to control the wires
awe and shock the monkeys
vengeance
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it’s not now
not like this
Not like
Jeremy speaking in class
Klebold in Columbine
in the name of vengeance
this time an Elementary
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it’s not now
not like this
On the hillside
Smoke blocks the light
ashes ashes came from his mouth
A shot
across the knoll
then shots
north by northwest
ohio 4
all fall down
it’s not now
not like this