Doublecrossed by the terror of birth Into the troubled thrum of becoming, Uneaseful in our mirth When summer’s feather moults to winter’s bone 5 And all the cold wonder Of snow’s undoing. Wrenched upright, awry by our thrown bones— Uncramped from the comfortable hunch Inside neutral mother 10 And stretched to stand in decisive day, Thrown to thrones in the hissing wheats, We bleed into seed. Shambleshanks unpacked on a walk as long as thought, Our knowing as nothing as nothing else 15 Unless such nothing is— Holds seed and snow in eye and hand; In bone and feather bred, our flight Tells all and nothing less Than Christ-crossed oblivion.
From the collection "Nobody Poems"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.