Blue Baby
L. Edgar Otto 26 October, 2012
Between lesser gods,
save in the beginnings
in their hidden after world their common
heart is torn apart
Who is the sister,
big and vanished Little Brother no
line descendent, our name, our own child
some think?
All these years in
human worship leaving flowers
at your grave, my own sister broken not as
brave
The barnacle worms
like the the storms undermine the piers
at the sea shore by the hollowed land, burn
cabins of his birth
From such cloaks
known not what they've done and
without guilt turned the stranded sea horses
from the steam, echos, hollowed seashells
As if upon the sea of
ashes they surf the time,
scavenger gulls like guardian angels beyond
forgiveness
O my ghostly lady
safe in your private thoughts alone
before his headstone, virgin pure, between
gods the intercessor
Building with soft
propolis and crystal comb an earthly metropolis
that between all souls and those who hear
the horn bonds endure
If in his wound
wrought by mindless sin the idol as
all conch shells blown and stolen, left
before you the rusty screw
His heart incomplete,
returned to reptile its three-chambered form
beyond what mundane or sacred, the monument
speaks
of all Phoenix rise
While all flowers
breathe, pass on the dreams, ephemeral.
* * * * * * *
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