Our poured and pounded slave
Finds solace in shade
Criss-crossing our path
The image traced on every friendly place
And some with gates
Past the watery quake
Gases rise on a hot day
The squeaky sound that a shake can make
A jostle in full bloom
Among the garden of parts that make up the frame
Manly and twisted
Sinewy and caked
Take two parts motor oil
One part hearth
And bake
Delivering goods
It could look like the other way around
In a certain light of day
Our slaves as captor
Us:
Faces carved with dismay
Barely dragging
For fear of stopping
Our well fed
And maintained
Containers in good company
Appear to find strength in our decay
Never letting on
That our way
Or the highway
Is a game they taught us to play
From first glint
When minerals bled from clay
Lured by sparks and forks
When simple stone can filet
And now we keep their time
Fiddle with their issues
And lay down sacrifices to their gods
Them:
Speed and Conduct
Us:
Forgetting the beast and bugs
Now fenced and perched
Sometimes praying for solace
In what we call
Easier times
Before we dropped dimes
And collapsed mines
--
6.12.08
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