Originally published in The Minnesota Review
Why Dehydration Was Invented
Summer of white corn. Blood brothers
descend the steps into Xi’an, holding
each other. Huskies are only planted
by bad men. Summer of red
beans & milk. Drink pond water
if you want crystals
in your kidneys. Fill your bus
with the same humans to and from.
Don’t pull your brother with you
if you fall. It doesn’t matter
how many coins the men give the church:
the ceramic gods can still hear
their pockets. A husky is a dog breed, not
a kiss. Summer of dark pines, deep roots.
In this heat, prayer hurts more
than knees and throats. If your brother stumbles,
let his weight drag you to the riverbank,
where thirst materializes as cuts
in the soil. A headache is religion
with fear for legs. Summer of decay, soundless
beneath the undergrowth. Drink pond water
if you want to live. & if you fall, pull
your brother with you until he snaps
in half, body broken at the altar.
Don’t be afraid. We are all bad men, thirsting
for water that belongs to no one. This is how
you survive when the clouds are made
of chalk. When the bathhouse
has closed, & the cows don’t give
milk, & the villagers don’t leave
coins anymore. Love is conditional.
In this heat, hickeys become cherries
without pits, their stems hostile
for neck arteries & dying
to germinate. & when devil’s ivy
sprouts from your brother’s body, you
have won. This is how
you know you have won.