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ATHENA
by Eileen Tabios
What’s deemed necessary
changes. Hear
me
listening in another
decade, editing
last
and first lines.
A different
Singer
croons from behind
an impassive
speaker.
I listen, cross
out more
lines.
The poem cannot
be pure.
Sound
never travels unimpeded
by anonymous
butterflies.
Writing it down
merely freezes
flight—
Translation: an inevitable
fall. Take
control
by shooting it
as if
pigeons
were clay: This
one is.
But
It provided pleasure
once, was
“necessary.”
Once, it flew
with non-imaginary
wings.
O, clay pigeon.
Translation: the
error
is my ear’s.
The sky
ruptured
suddenly—I saw
but did
not
hear the precursor
fall of
leaves.
*****
Edit it down.
Edit it
down.
Silence is Queen,
not lady
-in-waiting.
Edit it down.
Edit it.
Edit
it down. Edit
it. Edit.
Edit.