|
| oracle | ||
| she turns her back | ||
| a signal to me | ||
| to suddenly heed | ||
| silent symbols | ||
| formed softly | ||
| before clay chipped to flint, | ||
| our once-time together | ||
| not futile. | ||
| to look at ourselves | ||
| in deadlocked descent, | ||
| knowing rollercoasters | ||
| go down, and that up's | ||
| an illusion of flight, | ||
| Peter-Pan-lost; | ||
| so who'd laugh now, | ||
| turning our backs | ||
| each yelling silently | ||
| "look at me" | ||
| answered, by silence | ||
| "I won't" | ||
| then the thought of you | ||
| to remember a time | ||
| we assumed | ||
| faith, future, hope -- | ||
| now the oracle's dark | ||
| and we've shredded | ||
| the vestments to call it; | ||
| I wring damp sacrifice | ||
| before the temple | ||
| and it's closed. | ||
| © Jon Bohrn (1999) | ||
