It’s time

Alexander, raise up your beating heart:
throw it down—the ground’s
bleeding—opened at the sound of weeping.

A new power takes us, foreseeing our
glowing crown—what’s bound
to give light must endure its burning down.

Slow in the evening, all-knowing grins
keep truth within when
rowers steer past your cage believing they’ve

made it past the gate, deceiving themselves
your chain-link teeth keep
danger out—each saying becomes a shout:

Go into me deeper! I’ll moan when it’s
been too sickening—
nowhere near fast enough; keep making haste!

Make it last—the weight we leave in the depths
for drowning needs speed
made for our sweet slaying. Sleeping without

dreaming isn’t even a good reason
to keep me waiting.

Oh, great commander! Come on, piss a mist

of your kingly amethyst—don’t squander
such a wealth as this
on a dark hour; rub your match against

the swelling, powdered keg and take a sip—
come on now, imbibe
my mind—drink of its canon blowing up