Lavender by David Ephraim
…More
Men Mold Breast Like Clay
Breast look down when they’ve died.
Show not a man the church where clays pray, the soil where clays worship, the body where clays fast, the building where clays speak in tongues.
MorePgymalion without Galatea/Were I A Sculptor
If I could I’d try and sculpt a man.
I’d put marble, basalt rocks in hand,
and say “I can make this work, I can!”
I’d try and make a man out of land.
FOR THE LIVES THAT FAILED
Today,
Let us cry into the dusk, while watching our stinking selves
Stand unstirred beneath the feet of hills in ìdànrè
To find partial answers, to the hunger singing restless hymns
In our heat-burnt heads