You Won’t Hear Me (Scream)

I turn to NASA like I once turned
to God, seduced by stars falling
through midnight at The Blue Note.

On Mars, the speed of sound slows
down, so subdued
if there were birds they’d have no song.

Here, out of synch, men
explode before the trigger
clicks. Our violences have grown

quieter. Frame by frame
we are retreating-
back to the silent era.

How to speak about the shots
I down, the four horsemen,
the mass graves of my mornings?

I’m holding my nerve like a stylus
as the world turns
in diminishing

orbits.
The tenor sax syncopates
light years beyond my unstable table

I ride bareback on the bolting
stallion, whinnying meteor
with a soft mouth.