Fever

In an open field at dusk
To footfalls, I awoke
Marching ants across my temple zone
Their feet had no intention
They followed some magnetic draw
Prisoners of their destination

From the slats of the factory come
(where once they did make rails)
Old death's peculiar songs
He didn't know I was listening
So he crowed out nice and long
To the spiders and the lumber and the dust of his conquests
and his hunger and his loss
I heard his feet rejoice
I heard him tap his cane
As if he had his own revue
On stage at the athenaeum

I caught his words in my open mouth
I gagged and choked and spit them out
I heard him turn as he did hear
My tiny heartbeat in his ear
I was already running
Oh, I heard him coming

Shrapnel spinning from his wheels
The sounding arms rake for my heels
I know then roll and hit my face
And I said these magic words

My dove is home
Her breast is warm
My dove is home

And I said these magic words

I fall down, down the anthill for days

My dove is home
Her breast is warm
My dove is home