A Thing of Substance, The Salvaged Sullen Subject

by animalworkss

This thought I’ve wrought
Kept safe and fought
For its sake I prized and knew
And hid aloft
From oughts and nots
Having room to breathe, it grew
The shapes it brought
Made image taut
Strung together worlds by two
Till modes begot
A sod forgot
By those with privileged view

Under webs and dust
And stink of must
It shrank and raisin-ed and pruned
And grew a crust
Around its cusp
It dimmed in light and hue
I saw it thus
With rusted truss
In imminence, death loomed
My pains robust
Endowed a bust
My grace asunder blew

Then winds below
Grew thousand-fold
From chaos they did stew
And whence they came
Were those laid blame
Upon their backs accrued
O’er beaten time
Their voices chimed
A chorus quite askew
And with bare hands
They spared the land
Polished it brand new

And so my heart
Pours out in dark
A favor saved for few
Who salvaged day
Though dawning’s reign
Quick to bid adieu
Thinks of them last
Subsumes them past
The reach of holy pew
They hold their own
Create what’s sown
As equals to their doom




Copyright Keli Birchfield 2015