We Will Make Amends Ere Long

The Jealous Minor Gods:

I have hidden your lost teeth in the net of all my famous hair

And with foresight promised your umbilicus

To several minor gods. I paid your fee in fawn skin

& the lightest fringe of tissue, all the quiet noons assembled,

In yard stars & the light of phosphorescent pens,

The dioramas that it takes to fill lacunae, in ancestral knots

That tell the story of our humble people: watchmakers,

Mainly, ventriloquists & scholars of quintessence,

Amateur lifeguards I meant to surpass. How I loved

My green & distant futures! But I love you more

From late Holocene out to the farthest buoy, unto

Blackmail & a verb that means renouncing Christ

Or else describes the path of sap before it’s amber,

Before it dimples, just a little, to collect — 

Amy Beeder.