Partial Compendium of this Unfinished World

We learned about the world
through stories— how a jealous 
sky swallowed a woman’s ornaments
and a beast rose from the waters
to steal the lustre of the moon.

We threw ourselves
into the only weapons we knew—
Our bodies, dancing old rituals,
clanging the music we fashioned 
from metal and fire.

Astrologers point out planets 
aligning. Stars die and give birth
to new ones. Craning our necks to see, 
do we wonder if they ever want to see us?
When it rains, we put pails underneath 

leaks in the ceiling. We open the lids 
of metal drums, so they can store water
for the dry seasons. Birds rise in droves, 
their dark bodies practicing their own 
cursives on a slate. 

When a shingle in the roof
of heaven comes undone, we know 
we'll hear the echo of thunder, 
that voice saying the world and all
in it remains unfinished.