Progenitors Wake

The drip  
And delicacy of my eye
You imagine
It holds pity
You imagine  
It holds your favor  
And that I intuitively reach  
For your nerve
 
Some nerve
 
In all my resolve
A posture built of stone
And the stalwart mortar
Experience  
My wisdom sticky with it
 
Even against the Great Wall  
You helped lay
From cornerstone  
To turret and my stare from it
Even against this  
You blow
 
Silly fragile fragments
You expect  
To crumble tumble down  
 
And long gold locks  
Like the hair
I used to wear
You believe might spill over
Return to your pull
Of grooming  
Tight plaited  
Twisted curving
Insecurity  
 
Inebriated wit
Calculated curiosities  
Woven tightly  
Into my thought process  
When puberty
Hit with urge
 
Remorse
That I had left certain things behind
 
Laughter with you
Inside jokes
And shared knowledge  
A privilege meant
Only for us
 
An isolationist  
In your measure
Your way with me
You had  
But not quite  
proved  
Cold calculating  
Alienation
 
But oh father  
How I’ve sinned against  
The nature of things
 
In my head
To my knees  
With private mournful  
Accusations  
With the need for  
absolution from it
 
But with absolve  
I dissolve
 
So return to my eye
The drip she shines
When let loose
That shine  
She is not pity
And she is not for you
 
To my knees
With other things
 
A world who’s axis  
Is not you
A prayer to a God  
Who’s strangest angels
Do not sing  
In your tonality
 
A hallelujah chorus rise
Over your horn
And its shrill  
Efforts  
My walls
They hold