In his immaculate foresight this
Tender and precise father of lies
Renovates our temple of stone-love
Dragging weight from the
Quarry of the enemy’s victory
Slaughtering each tree on the rock
His armor, hammered copper
A signal to the gods he
Does not trust
Whom he toils to
Eradicate with his
Practiced muscle
Complex ferocity
His cistern considered a
Noble place of death
For a felon with
Sturdy chains on his
Sinewy soul
23 June 2009
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