p o e [T] r i e

(temporary pic)

There stood-

an assemblage of poles 

rising up to heaven with the worker’s

calloused feet atop of the stake   

         and their bodies taut with a tie with dreadful grit,

as to how the poles

were tightly gripped.

 They were there

 for quite sometime-

like ants hunting day and night

but these reedy brown  and rugged    

         silver poles held the grip for these ill-fated men.

How unfortunate they could be, unlike

Somnus * in his  consumed slumber. 

Their hands of masterpiece -

with irregularities of strokes

painted the edifice

with a color of hope.   

           But the arrogant and proud poles where they stood from

have loose ropes and untangled knots,

together, will surrender with the scream of the wind.  

The nodes were tied together

to brace the framework

in which they dangled.    

           But the drops of their sweat and tacky cream

freckled the young yet

lustrous shaft of the  moonbeam. 

*Somnus, in Roman mythology, god of sleep, the son of Night and the twin brother of Death. His home was in a dark cave in the far west, where the sun never shone and all things were wrapped in silence. Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, flowed near the cave, and poppies and other sleep-inducing plants grew close by. Somnus had power over both gods and mortals and is often represented as a sleeping youth carrying a poppy stalk.