literature

sunlight

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Literature Text

Before the sun could rise, we returned from the East
And brought back golden gongs for our golden frescoes.
We were too alive to sleep, too enormous to tame,

And shook with the poverty that came suddenly with winter,
Calling and yawning, like stray cats out on the street;
When the sun came at last, and gorged itself on the fabric

Of skin, hair, and speech, we ran back, back, back
From our dreams of God, and the last flight left
Before we could even catch it; out on the road,

The world gave us tricks, offering leaves, blossoms, and other
Things as green as our blunders, while we called
For golden hands on our throats, a golden

Smell in the air, and the crackle of
Sunlight to consume our waning fires, amen.
For `thetaoofchaos's Mea Culpa contest.
© 2013 - 2024 goose-fat
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