The shepherd of flames
Eats with his tongue extended
He has no hands
In the end
He has only the will to destroy
In the oven
In the chamber of suicide
On the battle fields
And in wild fires
Black tongues remain
That can't be seen.
He has limitless wealth
But it's of no use to him
Soon
He will combust
And after
Fly in ashes
In breezes.
His spouse
Will bring sticks to the fire
They will crack and burn
She will romanticize the fire
Pouring olive oil
And after
She will wear
A rope of hemp grass
Or of crushed palm leaves
Around her neck.
This poem is one that, on very first reading, I understand will remain with me. I do appreciate the tonal unity you incorporate within each poem that I've read so far. These poems don't hide behind a weave of unnecessary words.
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