there’s a
blue hand on the grass
like pieces of lion in the jaws
of a hungry savannah god
stupid, ruthless,
relentless eating slow.
there’s a
blue hand on the grass,
once
it stalked the moonlight red
and bled the night
’til spent
it pissed itself
into translucent yellow dawns.
there’s a
blue hand in the jaws
of a hungry god
relentless eating slow,
once
it roared murderous demarcations
in obscure intent and
now
nibbled away
we watch it disappear
now
we watch it
fade from the world.
not knowing why
something in us
grieves its passing.
J.C. Mari is a Floridian who ekes out his living in occupations unrelated to poesy or the arts. He is occasionally published here and there. Like everyone else he does his best to achieve/maintain some degree of functionality.