Wayward Creature

     A tongue wanders pathless hills
     its mind measures, dirges for

a truant lover, burns brighter than its marble

     columns to breach the temple’s
     gates, to lift high its portals,

pierce and peer beneath its veils, to lay sod and wreaths

     and set-up a garden of
     seed before the altar, to

slaughter itself by slander, to offer secrets

     to a priestess in exchange
     for wisdom, this tongue desires

to know him, to know of where he goes when he does

     not follow true religion’s
     rules, to be shown the roles he

performs when, by some ungodly grace, he drops his

     trousers, tiptoeing in at
     dawn, without a trace of loss.