Norah Brady

beowulf

my favorite part is when he holds his breath for a day, 
his body a bullet trying to tear the fabric of the world and 
succeeding, his body a bullet willing to exit the
world through another, a flesh-death, a hero, of course,
he didn’t think he would die. and who am I kidding he didn’t 
die, he poisoned a lake with his blood, or—not his blood

is it your blood if you spill it? if you bring ribboning
into the water, magic trick, like you enjoyed it?

and who am I kidding, of course he enjoyed it, didn’t you see 
the water working its way through his lungs as 
he laughed and laughed, spit red, grinning 

I would not enjoy it quite so much, but wouldn’t I do it?
wouldn’t they teach me in school how to rend the knife
from my hand and into death? place it in my palm and say:
go, you have breath enough

a house with a roof teaches us something about how
to die, and so does a knife and so does the mother of 
an enemy

the mother of an enemy with a house and 

a roof teaches us something about miracles and knives 
and why they answer to any question so brutal