| The Creature in our Bone |
The Creature in our Bone
What promise did they make before locust? They rise.
They descend. They search in alleys to find worlds.
They raise their head to the skies. But they are thin,
like the sleep in our eyes.
When we are young we talk with gods, but always
refuse the cup of blood that draws. Older,
we take our inheritance and give it to a girl
for the dust settled on her neck.
All escapes to our wish are one hearted, all stories true.
Some mount pulpits, some scaffolds. And though I fell
once and broke, I now frame my judge's scripts colored
outside the lines once suns and pasted stars.
Some for the count of all our years, some for the cost
of all our meals, these many debts are due. Socrates,
for all his words, only wanted the boy.
Once for all this debt of treasure I have paid,
turned away the perfect word on my lip
still pleased to worship creatures on my thigh,
remains of speckled dust alone
my wide star kingdom.
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