Wings

at night we crossed the border following a Black robe

to the edge of the reservation-to Cataldo Mission

where the saints and all the martyrs look down on dying converts

what makes the water holy she says is that that it's the closest thing to rain

I stole a mule from Anthony-I helped Anne up upon it

and we rode to Coeur d'Alene-through Harrison and Wallace

they were blasting out the tunnels-making way for the light of learning

when Jesus comes a'calling she said he's coming round the mountain on a train

it's my home-last night I dreamt that I grew wings

I found a place where they could hear me when I sing

we floated on to Hanford on a lumber boat up river

past the fisheries and the milltowns like a stretch of future graveyards

she was driven to distraction-said I wonder what will happen

when they find out they're mistaken and the land is too changed to ever change

we waded through the marketplace-someone's ship had come in

there was silver and begonias-dynamite and cattle

there were hearts as big as apples and apples in the shape of Mary's heart

I said inside this gilded cage a songbird always looks so plain

it's my home-last night I dreamt that I grew wings

I found a place where they could hear me when I sing.

and so they came with cameras-breaking through the morning mist

press and businessmen-tycoons-Episcopal philanthropists

lost in their appraisal of the body of a woman

but all we saw were lowlands-clouds clung to mountains without strings

and at last we saw some people huddled up against

the rain that was descending like railroad spikes and hammers

they were headed for the border-walking and then running

then they were gone into the fog but Anne said underneath their jackets she saw wings