Rainbow Excrement 2.0

Reading Time: 2 minutes
::


the dragon shit me out. 
rebirthed within manure, i was,
amid the hyacinths.

there is no sweet smell 
to a salvation as this

so i embraced
the stench
until i stank
or went insane;
the townfolk 
as much fooled as i


::


but is such a survival? 
dragged 400 feet 
through ragged intestine
with dragon’s bile 
& its blood in your mouth? 

how left intact 
can a whole mind be
when every liberation 
begins & ends in labyrinth?


::


what a privilege, the science says,
to be born among the hyacinths

a beautiful origin story
no matter how awful the offal

“buckle up, buttercup”


::


has anyone seen my shield? my sword?

“here, let us lease to you
your mother’s skull; this 
thighbone to the child you sired
before she was sold. we know
this is your kin, but we 
have right to first refusal.”


::


this bed of flowers is always aflame.


::


the brightest of all human light is behind me
but no matter the strength of my shadow
it is stolen & cloned; its disintegration expected.
and when it defies they name it anomoly
& say it’s the animal in me…

…how ignoble it is to fight extinction.


::


but isn’t dragon’s breath also a flower?


::


i stand here
in my own sweat
& step forward


::


yes, 
with my mother’s skull 
i will crush you.
this shank 
of a child’s shinbone
staked 
through your heart.


::


don’t ask me for my playlist


::


it’s not a segregation
but, no, you can not sit with us.


::


in dragon’s blood
i write a poem… 
stanza over stanza…
verses of love & belonging.

but what is written of
in my own blood
you could never fathom
its tenderness.


::


not even the wyvern
is privy to these flames;
this vault of voice
laden with gold;
this glacier of sun
this globule of god
gibbous in form & oscitant 
from the peak of mountains 
melting, a river of fire
striking forth to pool
& cradle at the feet of love


::


born not unto Elysium
but Ile-Ifé; this ladle of life





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