Little funerals full of
these hours. Wondering if it’s worth it
to rob every grave, to drag the days back
to the laboratory, to stitch them
into something only lightning can love.
Will they mistake my creature for my name?
It will do neither of us any good.
All these years are only alive because
belong dead. The
spirit of the times:
pity mixed with horror. Torches, pitchforks.
We have pulled back the veil to reveal
darkness, & we sit in that dark, revealed.
The man who makes a monster makes the man
who makes a monster. Who makes a man.
Gregory Crosby is the author of Said No One Ever (2021, Brooklyn Arts Press) and Walking Away from Explosions in Slow Motion (2018, The Operating System).
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan