6. 9. 2022

After The Revolution

Jake Romm

in this dream I keep having
we’re sitting together in a field of corn
and the revolution has already happened
and we’ve won and the flag of our revolution, which is no flag,

can be seen and not seen fluttering in every plaza
and every office, which is no office, but for us
that’s out of sight even though we know it’s there
because we’re sitting in this cornfield

and there’s no one guarding it, there’s no one working it,
there are no tractors and no fences and the field is buzzing
with a delirious giddiness but it’s all silent everywhere
except for the sound of the corn

swishing in the wind and in the absence of tractors
and the absence of fences and the absence of guards
we can hear the corn growing too, it sounds like a low rumbling
vibration emanating from beneath the soil and we think

aha! we’ve always known! as we hear this
low rumbling create a harmony with the swishing that is so ecstatic
that it rockets hundreds of birds from their hiding places
within the stalks and out into the sky,

a murmur of starlings which takes the shape of your face,
and then deforms and flickers before returning,
always, to your face, which shimmers above us,
deforming and returning,

and it seems like this murmur
materialized out of nothing,
and in fact it did,
and we promise each other,

amongst all this gold,
that we’ll sit here, for a while
at least, reading poetry,
and licking honey from our hands