We are not immortal
We are not calm
We are the fancy skeleton
Filled with the clever blood
We dance in the wind
Whistling until our lips
Taste of blood
We are obscure
We are beautiful
We make music and paint
We beat children
We hug children
We lay in gutters
We think the world is only as wide
As the spread of our arms
As small as the circle
We find with our eyes
We are the future carrion
Served on the plate of the land
There’s a blue immensity above
There’s a black immensity above
Our purses and wallets
Are full of tears
Our hearts flat and airless
Diminish us daily.
While around our feet
The lizard make hieroglyphics
In the sand.
.
Malcolm Paul
.