The Jealous Minor Gods

I have hidden your lost teeth in the net of all my famous hair
And with foresight promised your umbilicus

To several minor gods. I paid your fee in fawn skin
& the lightest fringe of tissue, all the quiet noons assembled,

In yard stars & the light of phosphorescent pens,
The dioramas that it takes to fill lacunae, in ancestral knots

That tell the story of our humble people: watchmakers,
Mainly, ventriloquists & scholars of quintessence,

Amateur lifeguards I meant to surpass. How I loved
My green & distant futures! But I love you more

From late Holocene out to the farthest buoy, unto
Blackmail & a verb that means renouncing Christ

Or else describes the path of sap before it’s amber,
Before it dimples, just a little, to collect — 

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