Friday, July 17

Masculine-in-vania

BITER

Lids heavy, sight sure
dawn and barely there
skeletons crawling finger bones
toward the big red button,
hands of the same body.
But I stumbled.

One of us will go on,
absorb the other and walk.
The other is just dust.
That was me, the hammer
whirled at the sun,
the boomerang of a forgetful God.