Crack In The World

I ache at this crack in the world,
where we stand on newly formed edges
throwing in prayers mingled with those
secret curses written with forbidden ink,
our bonfires thick with the greasy smoke of
unrequited edens.

Where we stand to pick away at the obelisk scab,
shielding the many privileges
that now lay as a shamed
whore close to guilt,
even the call out to those angels
who have not fleged into the
ragged currents between where we
love and where we hate,

where we hold the cup that our
ancestors bled into, they whispered
into a time that grew
beyond them
for some capacity of holding
that feels like a wisp of hair
against my forehead.

We are bewildered in our trying
the fear to do harm mingles
with the dying,
the reach and the betrayal
to see eye to eye, hearbeat
to feet, the complexity of our minds
that forgets that we are mammals
the need to come down
body to body,
to be nothing but the meat;

we were born into chaotic chorus
with our single notes, like pick axes
as we mine
this dirty black coal seam of
a long forgotten song.