no one here better
than a stand of grass
not one iota of seniority
over the dusk that shifts
its collusion with blue, yet darker
to bleed of brown
and ecstatic hunger of smoky black
stars tell us there is never
reason for pride
we will revolve and solve
the mystery that begat us
the desire that ran us
off the roadways of grace
and we leave our children to the wolves
who teach them mercy, strength when needed
and the truth concedes its smallness
to cast shame on us, restore us to wholeness
