nesting

     
cold enough outside for the few drops of piss      
that didn't make it off the porch,    to freeze      
before the mornings first smoke is consumed      
     
it is the first day of the year,    one of my ribs      
has been given to the moon and her math says      
a beat to heart's begun.   the railing that rests      
my hand has renewed its wood today.    it will      
be remembered as important,  in the way that      
the fields, battles have been fought on,  never
lose their footprints.  may my war be recorded      
     
before the fool surrenders.   litter the kingdom      
with unlimited corpses,  so the monarch always      
must wipe the blood from his boots,       before      
the entrance to his rest. let live, the one loved      
more than the queen, but build for her a prison      
in the highest tower.  make her memory distant      
but with magnetic clarity, like a pole star,  axis      
to the widening of the wheel. she too took a rib      
so as seasons switch twice more, I expect twins