perhaps it began
perhaps the seed was sown
so many years ago
by accident of sex.
no gift, no striving
could ever be enough.
never to occupy the center.
when did the word 'polygamy'
begin its acid etching?
never the one.
never alone.
never enough.
the ochre ground
watered by bitterness
sends forth oily writhing shoots.
a cold night waiting
to be remembered
teaches many things.
the difference in potential
between perfection and the penultimate
draws down the lightning strike
to birth the spark of life.
though overlooked,
you'll do
to start a progress, swell a scene or two,
make do with.
Those who can't bring down the doe
will settle for the cow.
now the green unholy beast
lies curled around my heart,
nipping when I forget and dream
of dancing in the center's light.