Giant Slayer Man

Rifling brochures
of day tours to whale tails
dipping or towers ivying
reconfirmed the collective
myriad meaningless.
It was that slingshot
that slew him onto a life
whose rocks he turned to find
other rocks. Nowhere
was guardianship, nor happily
did love or friend linger
pompously long
so as to accuse
this egg timer of subtleties.
No briefs or rebuttals.
He wandered
in mind the countries
he had no bread to travel,
in page after merciless page
that cut into his fingertips.
Little purses of tornness
where he could sock away
the howling chalk-drawn suckling.
Let another, crossing
the world with a life bundled,
here and there glimpse
the outline of lust on a pane
to feel the promised landing.

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Copyright © 2011 Ricardo Pau-Llosa All rights reserved
from Fourteen Hills
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission