Two Poems by John Sibley Williams

How to Build an American House

What  the  saw  wants once sapwood
has sung itself out.  A  hammer  now
that   all   the  nails  are flush.   A boy
after  having  most  of his  childhood
pulled  from  his   mouth  like   teeth,
like song,  leaving him a man.  In any
case,  once  the job is done the thing
persists.  The subject fades to object.
Its verb loses agency.  I am.  At least
I am.  And the  sun  sinks  into grass,
staining  the  surface  red.  It’s  good,
for now, forgetting the  world  keeps
going without us,  that we are bright
flecks    of    light    dancing    into   a
back-drop  of  more  light.   The  saw
hangs  static  from  hooks  above  its
creation.  All  the  boards  are  in the
right place.  The  child has a child he
hopes   will   have  a  child  someday.
What  is  it  he  wants  now  that  the
house is ready for living?

Sanctum

What  they’ve   died  in  made   sacred
while  what  killed  them  is  forgotten
or  forgiven.  No   wonder   history   is
often    pictured    as   a    sky-bearing
cross or  a  sharp  cut  of moon  or an
endless     sea     of     candles     in    a
guilt-darkened   room.    The story  as
some   know   it   ends   with   tangled
rebar.   A   shattered   school.   Empty
promises    made   over   a   rich   and
distant earth.   I’m more familiar with
young    men   moving   stones   from
caves  and  waiting  for  their  fathers
to call them home.   It’s a ramshackle
river  we pretend  to  try  to  cross  to
see  ourselves beautiful on the other
shore. We  are  convinced we cannot
be beautiful here.   We find the signs
we’re   looking   for,  and  they  mean
exactly  what  we  knew  they  would.
I’m  looking  for  the world the world
doesn’t  like  to  talk  about  above  a
whisper.  Some  sort  of unforbidden
city.   A  beveled  hilltop  overlooking
an     impossible      meadow     made
weightless   by  the  dead.  The  dead
here are so heavy. We may never be
this beautiful again.

John Sibley Williams is the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Disinheritance. A seven-time Pushcart nominee and winner of various awards, John serves as editor of The Inflectionist Review. Publications include: Yale Review, Atlanta Review, Prairie Schooner, Midwest Quarterly, Sycamore Review, Massachusetts Review, Columbia, Third Coast, and Poetry Northwest.