Kings have reigned less time
Than the years I spent loving you.

In Sijekovac once stood a Serbian child
in a field of wheat and dirt
not far from the remnants of his home.
With him was another the next day,
and four more the next,
each of whom were brown and grey
from living in such fields.
By the week's end stood
eighteen Serbian children scattered
across the field of wheat and dirt
and soccer ***** and shoes
and shotgun shells
and crimson pools
and a father and his wife
heading to the next nearest village
for more.

Tonight,
I am adorned in baby blue lace.
I have boundaries nevertheless.

I favor not the days of months of
midsummer.
Then came the warmth of yours and of
solstice slumber
far and long enough to portray
a sort of ache I have ached
to confront like David.
•
Goliath, having finally fallen in fall
years ago
left standing merely a memory and
narrative which all have known
to harbor hardly any truth
nor any woe
but instead a poisoned crown of thorns
upon my head.
•
“Comatose”, cries Moses
along with his double wives
each of whom rinse my feet with blood
to merely watch them dry
and proclaim we’ve united.
•
“Go on, then, God”, they chant three times
and grasp my hands
and guide my eyes
into the warmth of yours and of
solstice slumber
far and long enough to decay
a sort of ache I have ached
to confront like David.