Mr. Ruin

The Shimmering Hand extends to touch my toes
As I am caught be the gently stop and go
Of an ancient body, long preserved and creased
Beyond recognition; those pioneers who pleased
Their god and cast first lots are known for naught
Except its finding. And now their name is Gone.
The arm is halved by and American steed’s long tug
That splits the face long worn by an amorous sun;
That which they found was here before their time
Will pass them over. All these pleasantries of mine
Cannot persist beyond tomorrow’s dawn,
But the aged toes shall curl forever on.

Liberty’s flame is fed on liberty’s blood,
Yet all is quenched in his returning flood.


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