AUGUST, CHARLOTTESVILLE

After Derek Walcott

In one corner the first match hisses

and soon a chorus of light

answers. Someone shouts Now!

and the bright beast stirs,

begins its booted, many-legged march.

Someone raises an anthem

blood and soil: hungry, how it swells,

feeds, roars. Fists of flame

snarl the air, spit snakes of smoke.

Underfoot, the black earth shudders

—mute, immutable; trees

bend with invisible weight.

Above, the black and weary sky

gathers its army of stars.

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