close your eyes

 

imagine,

one hundred  years in the future

laid out in a magical novel.

solitude.

one patriarch 

lighting a match 

to see what’s left standing 

after the phoenix broke her chains, 

poisoning the well water,                               screeching her rage.

ear bleeds rupturing pouring down his cheeks like

                   red tears

falling onto the cracked concrete

already wet with the                                       putrid infection 

        leaching 

from the firebird’s broken shackles

her flight made                                     impossible 

feathers.                                                mangled

                                                  100 years in chains

her cries awakening 

 hearts held in similar                           cages,

the patriarch stumbling now supine

looking into her eyes

before his death ushers in a new era