To make three (a poem)

Wednesday, March 26, 2025

An incantorial,
memori mort,
midstep,
transfixed,
between the two,
a void and me to make three,
a pillar,
these stones stacked to die on—
for the gods to witness,
see this blood shed,
is that what you want?

The oil and rock,
the heavens opened,
to catch a heel,
to trade my mead,
to come home and relax,
and forget destiny

The fates,
I’ll test them,
but what will be left,
my wounds
and a dragging leg

The mysteries unlocked,
the batter way,
for what—
so I can feel alive
for a few more days

What are these gems worth,
if my hand cannot grip them