Bag of Bones

Poesy plus Polemics

La Brea Tar Pits, California

My days are but loans
Of time that God owns
Till the scale of St Michael swings

I flew the high zones
Peered down on men’s thrones
But this eagle’s now folded his wings

My body bemoans
The sins it atones
Through pain that due penitence brings

Like a sackful of stones
My bagful of bones
Sinks into the tar of stilled things

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