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| photo by EJR © |
turning to go yet turning stayed
a poem to keep us, fattened staved
"O golden child the world will kill and eat."
till sow tend ready reap
the vision complete
we took our seats
near the left hand path
said Plath's 'Mary's Song'
was a map to the marrow
of how we would all
come to feast
upon what used to be
a song of star pence
we filled our pockets
on the way in
posies and ryes
ashen eyes held fast, promise
of revision-ed history
but our noses knew
what putrid few
were we that remained
clawing each day
spun wheeled as if we could
always go back too
what once was
we journeyed
river to rain
begged nostalgia
for another fix
twitched bewitched
self struck piñata
mirror mirror nearer thee game
fenced in, hunted
by shirley jackson lottery gangs
here we were
back pewed
new sacred
sold
on ideal
viral load out
anti body
anti christ
febrile, bleeding
belief, divine
golden skin a gain
most death tine-d, this reign
EJR ©
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