by James Diaz Obscura Odessey There is a hole In language It moves like a lantern Caught in wind caught in a tree Near the off ramp where a man on crutches asks of us a small kindness We deny him because he is not ours But nothing is The pine touched by snow Lets it all go While no one is watching Lit by televisions They sleep with one heart closed Our people Sadder than we remember them No one says what they mean It’s only fair that we pay for each unkindness With our bodies