nathanael.ink

we have seen you
under ramparts and tramways

brick by brick, the corners all faded hues,

the workers hands in full design

we have seen you in leafy things

fallen seed without need of us; instead the sun,

the sky, the rain all pour the earth

under city streets and waterways

the flower or weed who worked

its way up our misconstruction

breathed you in from greener things.

the breath which is pure oxygen

met you in a pasture

breath in pure weather, breath under

aged oak’s heavy arms

felt you from a mountain range

where every sense assumes

the stimulus of sight

 

but we saw you without skin
(all ripped from the bone)
and out the vineyard they came
connoisseurs of the blood

now under heaven there remains
testimonies without love
connoisseurs with exquisite tongues
they teach to tell and unteach
each man from his eyes, each heart from its soul
make choices for coin
‘give to me as is mine, as it is written, give to me
that she may all be mine’

you have seen us under the sun…
we can hear you still
I cannot think now
what you could be thinking…