Piltdown Man (Revised)
I am a
Jumbled confused pile of
Bricks stones stretching
Upward onward to
The smokestack to the skyline.
I am less than the sum of my parts.
Old Testament,
New Testament, anyone could
Attest to what is
Left of this when the
Rest of this that is
Less than this falls away.
And I can’t believe
That I don’t believe
That it was ill-conceived to grieve
That I’d leave when I go and go when I leave.
When I breathe, I
Fill my lungs with tar and
Wish upon a star for
Bethlehem to come and cloak and re-enfold my form
Within that hollow whole, that hearth of hearts
Where all true things must hold.
Fist of iron, silver, gold.
I am an inhuman in a human place; my
Reflection is no human face; I press my
Flesh through thresholds, neglect to brace
Against the bold and bitter air, and oh, how
Wonderfully it stings!, I want to scream, to
Blare through barest bone itself my genuflection
To this fatal star, this natal space, and to
Wear a rubber mask of Bill Shatner's face; I
Am beauty, I am grace, hold
Your crown up high, I rain
Over all I see, hold
Your crown up high.
High; I; eye; aye; by any term, the incorruptible.
#poetry