God atop a throne
licking chicken bone
and saved souls like a headpiece on His skull
a lop-sided crown of Creation
and the pride of an eternal fool
treacherous as His own creation
I am in the arena all tired and given up
waiting for a door to lift and unleash
my brethren beasts and the last sight of these eyes
that first in infancy saw a dangling bird mobile
and who clung to a squeaky rubber lamb
will be blood soaked incisors
and the disappearing sky
Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.
No comments:
Post a Comment