Same-Song Edens

He speaks through his groin in the

pale morning for the sake of leaving

sparkling sperm on his man’s feet in

the spartan room made for gods and

Machiavellian authors who speak of

back-alley barbers castrating operatic

boys so supple and clean and ready for

their blood to drain.

*

Maybe when the cosmos made touching

of the same male verses, their bodies

kept entangled promises for mirrors

and concluded that sameness would make

the archaic stars so entrenched in approval

of Creators that disapproval cut angels.

*

So, regret his tattooed triangles and

emasculations because you have made him

with your primal mixing of the embryos

pulsing in your cult families and cell pools

that protect your offspring from digging

through the ocean’s bottom and ending the

goddamn world.