Salim Gold
What Hath God Wrought?
here is work, in each face, as muscles work,
And our lungs complain luxuriantly,
And we evolve a fused menagerie:
Fish, at heart, but waving avian limbs.
I show a horse’s spirit, and roar—roar
Until I’m hoarse, rearing, my nerves, limbs,
Fidgeting, rearing, unto our Comfort.
But, frank rutting done, I snort like a bull.
Next, disbanded, again solitary
Creatures, breathing in separate nests—aeries—
Our vocabulary, once grunts and moans,
Is recast as feathery words, quill words.
Yet, my cool quail in our hot den, cocksure
Venus, every Helen rears a stallion….
No Comments so far ↓
There are no comments yet...Kick things off by filling out the form below.