No Sun

All the aborted fetuses––
and all of the immortal souls
all the convictions
and all the predictions
of what's to come,
all the heartened prologues
and all the daunted school girls
fixing their hair in bathroom mirrors––
unaware of their infinite
souls uplifting.

And I'm here to tell you that
you've been one of them before,
your cowhide leather,
your cowback fat lunch,
your wine in the evening
when all is said and done.

And I'm here to tell you to
lie back,
rest some,
before hate takes you,
breaks you,
and causes your soul
to unwind.

What they've done to them,
you've done to them first
a trillion years ago
when the night
had no sun.

No comments:

Post a Comment