qarrtsiluni

by Kir Jordan

I.

Maximus:

I, a bower bird
will build and build
this thatch grass hovel

everyone deserves something
to call their own? I ask
you, receive no reply
you have never known
placelessness

weave weave
I am time consumed in place
obsession I must make some
corner of some locale my own

I am no hunter-gatherer
have no bow, know nothing—
survival guides, mycology

conditioned, told to nest
know nothing of nesting either

II.

the shape of ship
need for container, vessel
fail-safe

need steel, will steal
am steeled and what
I have of place is stolen

having but passed these shores in brief I speak only impressionism

(I hate the impressionists)

this, nothing of light
I try to capture location
am revealed a curio shop, a postcard

*

Kir Jordan is currently completing his MFA thesis at Colorado State University where he is an Associate Editor of The Colorado Review. His poems have appeared in The Dead Mule, Colonnades, and the now defunct Unaffiliated Magazine.