Envying Prometheus

pecked at like a polystyrene carcass

careful not to swallow circles

harmful to my health, internal discord

between the meat of the message and

the spoiled flesh of empire, poised to

rot in the baking sun after winter is gone

preserved for now in cold, sub zero

frozen in the time extending between

here and the end of all things.

Under the thumb of a vengeful god

I could be nothing but a smudge of red

or a patch of snow that smells like iron,

crimson blemish on the white ground before

you, but nothing will wash away. Tears won’t

bleach the crime scene from the memory

of whatever or whoever remains when

I’m gone and you are too, souring as

the seasons move and cold things retreat

all that’s left is the corpse rotting, streets

consumed by plagues of flies that feast

on all the lies you told when asked if

it was right for to YOU to preach belief, you

told me trust in god and I asked you

if god believes in me? blood splatter on the

church steps where you told me to wait

for a sign, rain clouds brought something

born of a fruit that rots there on the vine-

the soil was spoiled before the thaw let

spilled blood soak the earth again, nothing

beautiful will grow here tomorrow but

wild flowers often follow where we fall, and

after blooming scatter on the wind and

meadows form and petals flutter when

we remember.