The Nacreous Oughts

07 April 2009

"Song of Democritus"

Worship is a reef against storms,
rough water, unmanageable tides.
As fast as the ocean erodes it
you forge new coral from beloved repetition.
You've found a single blueprint for survival
the ritual that cosmologizes ferocious universe
into something small, hard, and shiny:
building blocks that fit together neatly.
Not that you can ever forget how fragile
your shellcraft is, nor how terrible the packaged forces,
when every surface touched too long transmits a tremor.
You have heard the stars were falling but you knew it already,
the Surgeon-General's warning just confirmed your resolve
to leave no dawn-beached body for the gulls to gouge.


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