In The Realm Of Keys

Poem

a peek through keyholes, vast skeletal eyes upon the carving of a single door, phenomena ornate as gods pupils

indigo covered in iron lash if pupils are what blinds a god who gains cycles in students

little prophets at their peaks, a thousand stars and their stories, a key kept secret in the clusters

cry out! the first storytellers primed to speak in the halls of nightly bellies and veins-

vascular structures under microscope breaking down the encased musculature of martyrs

their head wounds and wounded hearts dug and laid beat, beat, beat-

down a black hollow cavity

lovely to the blood dancing and bone widdled as snowy baskets-

to carry weary keys of teeth hanging in open mouths of celestial timbre,

Euclid’s laughter and the sound of Om

clues of the last latch to crawl and caw to the pluck of feathers, the indigo features, the plummage sacrifice of buntings, our sweet scraps of sky!

and the grave of leaves and pathos picked galactic-

plucked passed-partout, the pupils that binds we to god’s blindness-

pick-lock to meet only its echoes of nothing that will not ward-lock its lack of care for nation’s feet tied to the fates of profit

behind a door with one hole all fight to peer through with keys in our own eyes to a god undressed, ashamed, and lacking organs

as its pupils mold new keys to nothing we may hold but a realm of skeletal self survival