Beneath The Southern Cross

Oh

to be

not anyone

gone

this maze of being

skin

oh

to cry

not any cry

so mournful that

the dove just laughs

the steadfast gasps



oh

to owe

not anyone

nothing

to be

not here

but here

forsaking

equatorial bliss

who walked through

the callow mist

dressed in scraps

who walked

the curve of the world

whose bone scraped

whose flesh unfurled

who grieves not

anyone gone

to greet lame

the inspired sky

amazed to stumble

where gods get lost

beneath

the southern cross