The rumors of her mother’s wild affair
were golden! Golden as the fire,
but never so close as here in the city.
Clandestine, her husband bored with her 
babbling neither listens nor speaks.

Surprised by sunlight,
hatched from sleep
one of us remarked with laughter
“as for Evil, it became too much trouble.”

We all look on disorder with relief.
The thin hands of trees blow away,
waving goodby,
until nature was a white, blinding thing.

As for evil, it is the steel trap and the fox.

Long have I toiled at this thankless task –
red as any ink and the air
is silent of cures or praise.

I assure you, the new language will come.
I learned it for love. It is the antidote.

I, if not beautiful, am beauty’s maker.

***

Author’s Note: All lines have been taken from A.E. Stallings book, Archaic Smile