The End

Together, drums in circles multiply
In tribal patterns, layered one on one,
The knights are gathered round the round table —
They laugh, they speak, and drink their throats away.
Later, I dance and wound.
I wait, debate, I feel my sin.
I thrash and lose myself among
Insane cohorts, my screaming
Rose turns to staff, Steph that lung dead deny.
I salt and pepper turn and compensate.
I satiate and lie, identify.
I take, definitive, enforce the law.
The throbbing muscle makes my darkness thaw.
I lose my meaning, stare into the sky.