Oct 22, 2011 00:27
The Fence isn't high enough.
Brother against brother,
they take each others' eyes.
Paging Dr. Hammurabi Strangelove.
And it comes in low,
The mother leaves her children,
And they go their separate ways.
Blackbirds glinting while they fan out.
No longer flapping, they freefall,
Coming to roost where all chickens do.
Our great ship rolls with epiphany.
A batting eye, and we're blinked out.
Everyone imagines themselves at the end,
The undoing of all we have and haven't done.
But no eyes see it, no hand lays flowers down.
The song that plays is the wind on sand-filed bone.