Memory XXII

Memory XXII

what are we doing on the steppes of Calzara?
what are we playing with our mouths full of daggers?
what are we singing with our hands full of candy?
what are we dancing with our feet all a’buttered?

rusted and cranky, the gears all tumble down
chaff blows all round there and everywhere
someone sneezes in the silo
the windmill’s been tilted

why have we crawled through the loom of the furies?
why have we diced with our teeth crossed with silver?
why have we caroled with our mixed up days?
why have we waltzed with our boots stained with wine?

pushing through the door with a fist for a handle
windless light seeps in the crack at the floor
someone lights a beeswax wick
the temple’s been desecrated


That “all a’buttered” kills me. I think I wanted to write something that implied some kind of epic adventure, but didn’t go so far as to say it. Apart from a couple lines, I think this one did that pretty well.

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