14. Sarcophagus

Proud,
I stare out at these moons,
Orbiting me, curiosity my
Gravitational pull.

I am Ra the Sun,
Agleam in priceless gold leaf,
Layers of slaughtered trees
Nestled like matryoshka dolls.
Scarabs and cryptic hieroglyphics
Ignite my painted arms,
Sapphires adorn my funeral mask.

I am not a reincarnated horror movie -
In my gruesome regal present,
You pass by, imagining
Just how powerful I was,
How battles I won, how many
Slaves bowed to my whims.

It is beyond your mortal estimation
For I transcend man.
My organs eerily preserved in
Dislocated canopic jars,
Crocodiles, falcons, cats,
Undying -

I am immortal, staring forever
From these bandages,
Sunken eyes eternally ancient,
Mysterious, enigmatic,
Proud. I am
the Son of Horus.

13. The Upset

So many broken dishes,
broken glasses too;
shards upon the floor –
irrevocable damage?

Clay cups and earthenware,
tumblers and vessels
can be glued together,
replaced.

Hurt feelings, ingrown jealousies;
distrust, misdirected malignance –

fester: growing like a fissure,
starting small,
growing larger,
seeping through the heart,
ripping, tearing
until the trust dies
and enmity remains,
sparkling as only
malevolently glinting
glass does.

12. Farewell, Stones

Discarded pebbles,
ground up by the Scylla and Charybdis
of Ontario:
remnants lay
upon the eternal patch of ground rock
beneath our feet.

White shards roast,
smooth and benevolent,
worn by the seas.
Whatever dangers lied in the broken bottles
evoke no harm,
tamed by unseeing hands,
sultry amber in the
glinting sun.

Shaven bits sift through the toes
as effortlessly as water, though
erosion shall soon make sure
that even those grains of sun-baked rice
will cease to circulate
amongst the naked
toes.
Farewell, stones.