Dig a hole;
raven beak,
feathers and all,
the dark tide
billowing in under
purple eyed wide
through leaves
of fertile sleep, the
incandescent swarm
of light and keep. And
by agony of defeat, the red hand
swept by the cheek; behind the ear
where willows seek refuge from night's
gathered reap.
Dig a hole, for broken rhino horn,
for mercy's advice dropped and
scorned, from lily lips adorned,
for her pale wooden hands
glorified and sworn.