Long before he was born
\nthere once was a child
\nwhose tightly clenched fist
\nwas not on his wrist
\nbut deep in his chest
\nright where he had carefully
\nhidden it before he started on
\nthe long pilgrimage from
\nhis mother’s bed of pain
\nin a Halifax birthing room
\nto a ceremonial wooden box
\nunder a granite headstone in
\na lonely northern Ontario town<\/p>\n
And all along the journey And the luscious amber nectars comforted him Outside, his pale lovely skin And these fists at night would reach out And the son and daughter came together Once.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Long before he was born there once was a child whose tightly clenched fist was not on his wrist but deep in his chest right where he had carefully hidden it before he started on the long pilgrimage from his … Continue reading
\nas he hid that clenched thing
\nin its cage of bone and blood
\nhe knew it was his strength
\nhe knew it was his own amicus<\/em>
\nand he never cried alone
\nfor early had he found his other friend
\nin the luscious amber nectars that eagerly
\nhe flooded down his burning throat
\ninto his aching fiery chest
\nwhere it touched his fist
\nand soothed it and lulled it to sleep
\nand opened it so that dreams could
\nenter its unclenched palm.<\/p>\n
\nand gave him dreams of a family with
\na wife and a son and a daughter
\nand they were all smiling and dancing
\nand laughing and singing
\nand the luscious amber liquid
\nloosened, tendered the clenched fist
\nfor ever shorter instances as
\nall the while they were thrusting
\nand feeding a deep rotting root down
\ninto another darker place
\nwhere they fed another tighter fist
\nthat was grasping his dark flesh
\nlike a gnarled malignant twin<\/p>\n
\nwon him the adoration of a sweet innocent
\neager wife who served him unreservedly
\nwith trust and hope in his future
\nand soon she gave birth to his son
\nfor whom he had great hopes
\nand he almost forgot the festering fists
\nuntil the war came and made wonders
\nof such fists and so he went to war
\nto feed more amber nectar to the fists
\nand he came back, bitter,
\nand his wife squeezed out a daughter
\nand the secret fists were strong<\/p>\n
\ninto his wife and children and
\ntighten their grip around the bladders
\ninside the wife and the son and the daughter
\nand wring them out until they cried
\nbitter yellow tears into their pillows
\nand yellow sweat seeped out of their pores
\nand yellow urine seeped out into the bedclothes
\nand yellow bile leaked out of their anuses
\nuntil first the wife died of yellow disease
\nand partially freed him and
\nthe children moved away
\nbut they were still bleeding yellow bile
\nthat seeped from their poor stressed
\nbladders that he continued to squeeze
\nover the miles, so grasping were his old fists
\nbut he too was sweating black bile from
\nthe fist on the rotting root that grasped his liver
\nuntil he dissolved, dripped into the hole
\nin the ground slid into the earth<\/p>\n
\nand they forgave him
\nand buried his fists in a wooden box
\nwith the rest of him
\nfor the thing that had taken root
\nin his liver had drowned him
\nin his own yellow tears
\nand sister and brother
\nlived good lives
\nwith little thought of fists
\nand gradually
\nbathed in clear water
\nand they were all smiling and dancing
\nand laughing and singing
\nand loved their own children
\nand kept reaching out
\nas if they were compelled
\nto hang on to each other
\nto grasp each other’s hearts<\/p>\n