Consummation (Original Poem)

civil-war-statue-1217608-1280x960
Photo: Andrew Beierle

He had married war
for better or worse
and swore she’d always
be his queen,
forever as his bride.

And as she grows,
expanding sites,
demanding all the world,
her venues for fulfillment.

His purified eyes
rescued, but already shut,
struck with sympathy—
asking the questions
once he gets all the answers.

Dealing out empathies,
deck stacked with nothing
but empty houses.

Standard role—displaying
a flush on her face,
he showing her a massive
diamond soaked in blood.

From early on,
expecting not the worst,
prescribing floods for thirst,
and confirming the climax
of the book
by turning to bookends,
markers of tradition
listening from the start
to the binding of
the weak man.

His own era now a
testament, the storming
of his language down
with long-tailed,
runaway stars.

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