The oaths of the young are glass
Clear and sharp and brittle
Once broken, not to be regretted
Else how shall loyalty be learned?
Swear now on foxfire and mirage
On the quicksand of desire
Wide-eyed in the firelight
And know this moment can not be lost.
Years along, tears along
I call it up now between asphalt heaves
Breaking trite like tulips through the driveway
Sworn on a dull and rusted blade
In a voice warped with unwanted wisdom
Now that my arm is no longer true
And I can not offer surety
Now that I no longer care to hide
The dented bones under forgotten flesh
The crack and pop of tendon under sleepy fat
And underneath it all the keenness
Of a heart honed by the grinding world
The ravenous truth under the ponderous patterns
The soul given so many chances to flee
I call it up now on my left hand, in your face
On the off chance, on the fly
Wide-eyed in the moonlight
And know that I can not be lost.
I am your stone angel and inscription
I am the earth of your cradle
I am the yew and the cypress
I am the urn and the willow
I am your name down the river of words
I am your means and intentions
I am the seed in your hand unintended
I know that you can not be lost.
Return to Columbine's Poetry Index
Return to Columbine's Laboratory