Friday, October 16, 2015

sirens of the inevitable

[you, with the glare that keeps me,
i'll hold your and hand and wrist to the bone,
to the very marrow.]

     
i carved your name into a tree once;
into the skin of bark that binds it.
and, i laughed;
i laughed as a child would laugh
as the natural flesh weeped its blood of sap,
and turned black at
the very air i breathed.
i watched as the life i excised tried
to heal, the boughs bowed to coalesce,
swaying at the mercy of the wind,
and my knife.
i watched as rays of elysian sun lent
their light; offered a silent song of hope
to the already wilting leaves.
i watched the magpies gather in the canopy
to bow their heads in prayer,
deep in the treeline of pines and elms,
and south to the single oak,
stricken and terminal,
bitten and lost by the inorganic
wound of my words;
but the tree remains,
ever empyrean,
ever magnanimous,
through the wounds of flesh,
through the lashing of its limbs to the very
marrow.
i carved your name into a tree once;
into the skin of bark that binds it,
to see if it would last;
but the tree laughed,
the tree remains,
long beyond your name,
long beyond you and me.