Laura Bylenok Elegy with Lies
Had I sighed the country would have lied
and would have flung itself upon its backon giant rusted bedsprings, would have sung
its screechy lullaby and had I sighedoh if I sighed the country would unpack
its bags and stay, strip off its stockings, slamthe door, and would have said snip out my tongue
before it laid its rooftops down and died—if only I could say please lie, and split
the whisper stalking me, uncurled insidemy mouth: I want to hold the thing I am
divided by: a synapse and its infinitetrajectory—of absence, touch—a sigh
that tightrope walks my spine—so touch me, lie.