Your hands are footprints on my face
Press me into fossils
Fix me wires for my jaw
Find me mammoth bones for my legs
Re-assemble me
And put me on display.
Make me someone’s science
A scaled giant on a page
A long, hulking silence
With a Latin name.
Shelter me from obscurity
Unearth me when they bury me
Scream for me from the stout volumes
Of everything
Where they will attempt to condense me.
Look, upon occasion, on my prehistoric face
Housed in the obscurity of photographs
Trapped in the finality of glass and frames.
Oh, walk with me now
Melt with me here
Upon these clear glaciers
That will become the sea
Where I will sail from you
Where I will turn like ice
Into the silence of a white night.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
Ron