Half Moon Force

(For Scott Olsen)

It spills out forever, night, day.
Fingers spill to the wound

satellites, fireflies, the magic
of hot concern. Young man

sacked in silver light. Stun
the cut string of his collapse

into us, reach out from distant eyes.
The half moon bursts.

His brain swells. Comatose.
This asset to defend, this dividing line.

Gas burns, curls to eyes
tongues the message into corners

as markets rise on heat
their heart the magma of everything

that could possibly matter, the power
of the gun of fire

punched force forwards
forwards and forwards

arced at his brow now the blood grin dent
fingers slick in open moon

half of its self, half of us all
poison only. And heal.