the sun rests fierce

the sun rests fierce

the sun rests fierce in eyes newly opened, the nerves raw
in the afterbirth of creation. illumination sought burns
and churns and turns corners on the rough-edged ledges
where once we played and prayed the way we had been taught,
not how we discovered to be consistent with the universe.

curses are not vows, vows are not the sacred cows we slaughter
at the edge of water turned red and cloudly as loudly we call
after fallen idols, the skeletons of memories mocked by those
who sought and bought the emperor's clothes, the better to take
to wake to break the fall we all must dare if we are to care.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.