Endowment

I never left this place
of marble and gold trim.
The earth was young
and I was here to shout for it.
The storied photon-fire mists

through the billowing veil
and the singularly un-visored eyes
of these wizened angels, cured
with age and smiles. Their scalps
sprout corners of crowns.

Called-down virtue invests
our words with meteoric force
that detonates like a kiss.
The trees could walk
if you or I said “march.”

The ancient wound that built
this world and more
knits my kin together
in webs of steel, sealed
like a love letter. Remember,

remember the ultimate code,
you who are covered
by the arcane marks. Splattered,
drenched in burning joy are we.
Sorrow sizzles off us until we glow.

I fall out of foggy doors
and drive home.
Dishes, diapers, teetering budgets—
a divine haze swarms in with me
and shines it all white and gold.

Will is a Franklin, Tennessee native who somehow ended up in Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria. He scrambles between working towards a degree in history, attempting to write poetry, and playing slap bass.

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