The Inclination of Glass Cannons
Shuttling beyond the lay
Of the land that may
End at the water,
Splash and fish, tide and otter.
War birds knocking stars from Heaven,
Wolf packs moving, six or seven
Or eight, the modern metabolic rate,
Society redeems the weight of hate.
Reversions to no merry mean,
We wash to make the world unclean,
We wash to upraise our station,
We wash to conclude causation.
Taking my place within the past,
An epic form of gratification,
I won't outlast, the die is cast,
So let's get on with vilification.
Bright sunny days, untrammeled ways or
Other poets' words so light,
Yet I shift and stray, I make the play for
The coming armies of the night.
Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2017
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