chopped and chewed and swallowed—
down we go
on eternity’s throat,
one bite of salty clay after another
to be recycled
and become the burnt sienna skies
of some obscure tomorrow.

fate chimes its’ eyelashes
like some odalisque its’ coin belt—
the boatman’s pockets are always full
with tradition’s eye seals.

we are but stairs
for humanity’s pretended
e-volution,
we circle meanings
like eagles circle unseen angels
up-above,
without ever touching them,
we live to ignore
and ignore to learn
the reason why history is repeating—
and talking tall
we show our real essence—

the spoiled mud flowing in our veins
keeps bringing bitter smiles
on god’s resigned mouth:
ever non-grown-ups, these earthlings…

© Liliana Negoi

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