I rise out of a pit
on this path, this night
a hollow set of eyes
I rise
portending through the streets
where people smile
and spray corn meal
at the feet of pigs
children hold hard
to their mothers' hems
sit and cheer
from the edges of the lower buildings
with pigeons on their knees
watching a shadow crawl slow
how the dogs whisper about dandelions
and remoteness, ginger, and ships
that never returned
but said they would
the water tastes of spirits
it tastes of
moon
it tastes of the dust
of people crushed by faith