This is a poem about power and territorialism
I saw it so clearly.
The tracing of your hands upon the air,
You made zigga-zagga movements
And who would know that this your
The traveller’s way to carve a rune
Into the flesh of the future?
You recast the air itself
As you always did when you felt
Your places closest to the fire was
Threatened…. A swish and a swash and you
Sprouted angels’ wings and breathed a
stinking innocence upon us all, even those
You love. Lightning quick, your rune took
Hold. And holds us all. In vicious thrall.