American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin

by Terrance Hayes

bring me to where my blood runs

What do you call a visionary who does not recognize Her vision?

AMERICAN SONNET FOR MY PAST AND FUTURE ASSASSIN Something in the metaphor of the bow Which is never close enough to see the arrow Hit its mark. I remain a mystery to my father. My father remains a mystery to me. Christianity is a religion built around a father Who does not rescue his son. It is the story Of a son whose father is a ghost. No one Mentions Jesus’ sister. Nothing is written About her. She had no children, she was in her Forties the first time she turned water into wine. A late bloomer, she began a small wine business And traveled all over the world selling the wine. Her name was the name of the wine. I don’t recall the name of the wine.

Of Midas. I wish you the opposite of what Neruda said Of lemons. May all the gold you touch burn, rot & rust.