Hero

who envies the hero before
that battle lays tamed at his feet?
to follow the heartbeat as it climbs
like toothpick ladders, hammering with
uncertain fists, attempting to slow
or possibly stop--
he who has decided that arms
were meant for more--
that holding the small backs of children,
a body of logs in december,
or the pale heads of onions
is never enough--
will take up his new command.
it sings in flashes, a silvery slick
like the belly of fish.
and this he waves through the bodies
until he is cutting through the middle,
the mass dividing on his sides in
red admiration.
possibilities wink in each heave,
the eyes of arrows narrowing in recognition
and then closing with loss.
they make their graves at his ankles,
marking his footsteps
(the conquerer was here).

the great star waits behind his head,
pulling the orbits to a quiet halt--
a crown of yellow burns into the sky
and i see him as he is written:
bright god of our people, standing in
a haze that was once a storm--
no limits and no mind,
but an inhuman heart that beats
as if it were our own.