Tracy K. Smith

Igor at Gunpoint

Everything important happens at night,

Remember?

                        This isn't a joke.

When I say so, you're gonna raise up your hands.

For years, your back to me made a continent.

I roamed it. Like wading the desert after dark.

Nice and slow. Now higher.

                                                  Far away voices

Reached me as indecipherable sound, sped past.

And when I say so, one at a time,

You're gonna empty your pockets.

You were a world, do you understand?

You—did I stutter?—

All night wind raced the plains. I lived there

Alone, not wanting to leave.

                                                 You. And you.

Sometimes, I want to remind you of something.

Don't fool with me. You'll get hurt.

I made you.

                          Put down your arms.

                                                             This is over.