Two-Blooded

I am a descendent of stillness 
and sailors still in motion, 
a brew of saltpeter and blackbird song. 
In just one bloody wound collide 
impatience and calm. 
If I fall silent and words ripen 
it’s the voice of an olive tree in its quiet seed. 
I am the hesitation between hideout and sword, 
the yellow in all the world’s traffic lights. 
In the future I’ll serve you coffee and worship  
you—like an icon—in a picture frame. 

Rolando Kattan