By the Hand of Django

By the Hand of Django

by Joshua Gray


Such angular structures consume me–
my bird’s-eye view defines the lines of the landscape.
There is music to be made, guitar strings to behold and pluck
by a hand decrepit. But the warm colors of your chords are food
a bit too textured for my taste.

The stubborn immobility of this monument intrigues me.
Your subtle gypsy movements disturb me.

I look down at the yellow fields as they cry out
for harvest time. The western wall sits in the east,
where fallen tile exposes grout,
providing depth to the two-dimensional days that are woven
with your A-string into the earth’s soul like fingers of fabric.

– refers to the three words “fields,” “yellow,” and “fingers” in the poem Flowers, yellowing by Carol Stephen