05-17-2013, 07:56 AM
The Tender
1. Entre Chien et Loup
I remember a much simpler time:
When I awoke to heaven's golden prow
and knelt to skim the sea from silt
into my earthen jug, which I would carry
deep within where vegetation was so thick
the virgin growth was choked by ancient
roots to form a clearing where
the faces of the elder gods were etched
in time-acne'd stone and pour
the sea into the cistern.
I remember the beast that came
on mangled paws, the beast that fed
on its own paws, and how it broke
the root-grown walls and paused,
laid its burden down and limped
the shallow steps to press its
muzzle deep within the pool.
How easy it would be to draw
the sword and lop its head,
read the future in the sanguine flow
that fogs the sea. How like me
it was, in many ways, more like me than the moss-etched gods.
I couldn't help but feel each
slackened breath, each last
damp-furred pulse from a fading
body as I lifted with my man-strength
to cradle.
1. Entre Chien et Loup
I remember a much simpler time:
When I awoke to heaven's golden prow
and knelt to skim the sea from silt
into my earthen jug, which I would carry
deep within where vegetation was so thick
the virgin growth was choked by ancient
roots to form a clearing where
the faces of the elder gods were etched
in time-acne'd stone and pour
the sea into the cistern.
I remember the beast that came
on mangled paws, the beast that fed
on its own paws, and how it broke
the root-grown walls and paused,
laid its burden down and limped
the shallow steps to press its
muzzle deep within the pool.
How easy it would be to draw
the sword and lop its head,
read the future in the sanguine flow
that fogs the sea. How like me
it was, in many ways, more like me than the moss-etched gods.
I couldn't help but feel each
slackened breath, each last
damp-furred pulse from a fading
body as I lifted with my man-strength
to cradle.