Jan 10 2022

The Spoiled Bloom

A poem...

The unstoppable demons of your ancestors you tamed to impotent imps,
but the din of your shortcomings punctures those whining whisperings.
You knew they would come for it just as you did a lifetime ago.
How may you cite the ungrateful to trample,
when you have not trained your eye this far from the egg?

Take care not to swallow the stone of the center,
for I grow suckling on the milk of the goat.
Recall the shadows in the endless rows unfallowed.
I am the gatekeeper to the eyes, the hands, my father’s belly.
My demons virtuosos of the pipe that lured those of the town east.

So grant it to those that seek it least,
Shower it down as clouds burst to rain,
Let new brooks, rivers, lakes swell without dam or canal!
For your pruners and shears are like swords to the hydra!
You must yield quickly
or I will hunt your children in your nightmares underground.