The Student Literary Journal of Vermont State University

Like seeds we fall away
meteors        loose
with burning wings        like sheep

or snakes        the way we squirm

like bats or moles or
other restless finite things
There is this constant        cosmic dream
that sits like a lily
on a burning lake

a fearless urge to crawl up into
and there        to overtake

There is this field        this breathing earth
the worms        the bears

these other lives from which to choose

to wear their skins        to try
their eyes        to put them on when there is

nothing more to lose
For this we mark the vulture’s take
we stop our skulls with just-picked stones

we rise beyond the mortal stake
and fill the grasses with our bones