30 September 2016

Poem-A-Day #214 : Antikythera


                                        Your body - only
                    a mass of color - sitting on the floor
                              doing its nails red

                                   After the smelting
               there is a small man-shaped lump
                         in the bottom of the cauldron

                              Iron mandrake - it screams
          once into the darkness of life
                    and then vomits its poison on the concrete floor

                         You have been Midas-ed
     if we buried you - the future
               would think your heart Antikythera

                    Your heart is indecipherable as is
paint my toes red as well
          my gnarls of gold are cold

The Antikythera Mechanism

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