Sunday, October 15, 2017

Aged Minotaur to Grandchild

When I die, take my horns, shave them smooth and thin.
Strip the sinews from my limbs for glue.

Ash is our best wood:

straight-grain piece

from fallen bough.

Cover with my hide

strong as you can draw.

Carve a thumb-ring from my thighbone.
My spirit will fly with each arrow from your string.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

No comments: