Lullaby, with Bough-Break
Two monks were arguing about a flag. One said: “The flag is moving.” The other said:
“The wind is moving.” The Teacher happened to be passing by. He told them: “Not
the wind, not the flag; mind is moving.”
—Zen koan
for Jin, on your eighteenth birthday
When the wind when the wind when mind rips
the wind when windblasts splintered bough fells mind
oak cradle slat smash window the bough down through
windlull by and by are you moving Child bide this leavingtime abide
lightning boltstriken shiver who’d set a child there in limbsplit
when the mind breaks crowscatter thunderstroke leafsoak
who’d leave his child there drenchrocked
on snapped bough Are you moving now Are you saying now
hush a bye hushabye Papa buy
you sleepcome coo mockingbird poplar switch Who
left you there Son on the bare white snag
crowsnest croonsong etched on a wet
clay tablet lullaby-on-cuneiform like they did in Babylon
4,000 years ago: Baby in the dark house why do you cry
‘Who woke me’ bellows the house god ‘The baby’ I replied
He’s noisy as a drunkard can’t sit up on his stool
‘Call that baby now he scared me’ the house god cries
‘Call the baby Call the baby Call the baby Call him now’
What would that god do to the baby not already done
branchscrape cradlesong like wombsway amnion
umbilical trail triplemetered high pitch and hush hush
if those windowpanes get broke by cradleboard and deadwood
don’t say a word don’t say a word don’t say a word you who
must go Baby in the darklimb in branchbend of poplar
smithers dislimbed sonsong sung in shivers glasssmash Jin
you’re turning grown you’re going partgone in the poplar’s
last and thinnest branches who left you there let you there
Call the gods of the house disturbed gods of the house call
the baby now no baby now in firepierced limb
down comes downcomes downcomes this lullabyend don’t
leave me don’t go don’t listen to this song don’t give up your going
up your growing your up and your leaving Not wind moves You do Not
tree newspears You will come back come back don’t say mockingbird a word
Poppa buy you whish and if that bough comes down
into this unminded cradle deepdown the mind
mindwind unwinding don’t let me make you
stay don’t say a mockword into the darkhouse into
trunkcrack and this new rippedloose child-
lull