Listen

A three-headed lion showed me maps of stars that looked new

He said they have been dead for a long time

It is just hard for me to perceive.

He spoke of parting a long time ago from a place ravaged by war.

The universe, he said, is much like my head,

You never know which side will attack.’

Then, he swallowed me up.

But in his belly he continued with talk of the trite condition of creation,

That an end where everything is all right is not coming

Things will always be moving

And the raptors of rapture never cease their circling

That wondering is the only thing that keeps his emptiness from consuming him,

And that all his many children have stopped listening

So he chooses the ones that have listened to themselves

And swallows them whole to free his restless soul