chipped and bitten nail, meet niobe, the human riverbed
waterful eye brimming of brown Saturnalia;
weeping ululate, loath of pity,
lacking of yoursness — and still the flowing water.
or, don’t. try? seek the truth from Parnassus, the mountain
down which the river flows, and in which god exists
among men as the mystery of the broken water,
he whose song hails from the nail’s chest.
that which man can never understand, bones and teeth,
nail and eye alike,
brimming, and breaking
sanguine surface tension.