Poem - Building a Monument
What he heard in the old age
What he said to the long flat stones
What he heard in the old age
Reemerged, throwing coins
Against the walls
Yelling for marble and slate
Hammers and workmen and mules
Fire extinguishers beehives magazines
Pain killers and guns
These we brought, seeing his face
Already writing What he heard
in the old age killed and ate him.
Going too fast and
Scratching up the surfaces
We thought we had it cornered
Have him bathed and brought to my chambers
We thought if just a little grows back
Children rolling out of the water
We asked What is it exactly, the old age?
Herd of cattle, bucket of wheat, mist
What we saw in the daylight
When we discovered it was night before
Old men running forward, running back.
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