American Love Song

For the tiger, alone in the dying field

by the backyard fence, quiet

& so still

I had almost no reason

to hate him.

On his back,

through the branches, five gashes

of moonlight.

Again & again, he spoke

without a jaw:  you

are nothing, you

are nothing.

Yes, I begged for language—

for a word

that meant I was not

still a boy begging

for language.

Because here, in the dying field

with nothing else alive,

this was everything.

I was nothing.

I stood & watched the tiger:

his gorgeous eyes,

golden, sloshing in their sockets.

Two windows

where on the other side

there was a boy my age

with no symmetry,

a stone in one palm,

a world in the other.

An essay

in the double amber—you

are nothing,

you were the taste of

the pretty boy next door—you,

tiger with no jaw,

you were the mirror

& the rock—

& I’m sorry

for all your hunger

in this house

with only bread.