Steven Storrie

THE GREATEST

 

You breathe your intentions

 

Vague as summer haze

 

Sunlight whistles casually

 

Obfuscating dreams

 

Bright light. Cages

 

Crooked awkward limbs.

 

 

How do you get to sleep, I wonder

 

When you are God?

 

When you are recalcitrant

 

When with the coming of morning

 

You are returned to order

 

A deity bleeding from the nose

 

A God hacked off at the knees

 

Chopped. Adrift. Fumbling

 

Lost ripped flesh

 

Scuffed

 

Broken

 

Trees.

 

 

 

How do you sleep, I ask

 

 

 

I am still waiting for my reply

 

 

 

 

 

THE BOOT YOU DON’T SEE COMING

 

The woodlouse cowers

 

at my omnipotent boot

 

I stand majestic

 

Lord of the land

 

Crusher of souls

 

Executioner

 

 

 

I weigh his world in my mind

 

A judge. A giant.

 

Then, from my back

 

Someone yanks my strings

 

I’m cut back down to size.

 

Put back in my place.

 

 

 

The woodlouse carries on unabated

 

Not knowing

 

Or caring

 

Just how close he came.

 

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