ANOTHER GOD: Where is the light emanating from your living?
ANSWER: Snuggled tightly to our ashen mother of sustenance, her concrete cloth lashed tightly `round our mouths while decaying organs clang upon their rusty pipes; a reverie to the stone dragons sleeping in our dark.
ANOTHER GOD: Where are the soft, milk-filled breasts of your suckling mercy? Have they too been punctured by the weight of your sins? Oozing out offerings at the foot of tyranny’s trough?
ANSWER: All’s been drained, shipped away in barrels.
ANOTHER GOD: How do you endure, pitiful as you are?
ANSWER: We are homeless upon these darkened streets. Homeless and hungry in our unremarkable dwelling, begging that we might buy back scant drops of her nectar.
ANOTHER GOD: Above the granite facing of shadow yonder stands your emaciated lady. She stares eyeless toward the spanning ocean, might she not save you?
ANSWER: No. Her light has long been gone, spent, sold.
ANOTHER GOD: Was she ever beautiful?
ANSWER: Her light once spread out over the world.
ANOTHER GOD: She’s nothing to offer you now?
ANSWER: Just her prostituted limbs rising lightless above the water.
ANOTHER GOD: No light? No dawn? No curve of fervent hope?
ANOTHER GOD: Where is the light emanating from your living?
ANSWER: Snuggled tightly to our ashen mother of sustenance, her concrete cloth lashed tightly `round our mouths while decaying organs clang upon their rusty pipes; a reverie to the stone dragons sleeping in our dark.
ANOTHER GOD: Yes. Hope.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman