Some Mad

Some Mad 

god has bound me to this rock, plagued me 

with sores unhealed by any nurse—, divine 

madness tempered by the piss he takes 

on my forehead when he visits, avoiding 

my fixed gaze, then drops hogs, zebras, hippos, 

or tigers on my legs that break and break, 

     and he dances in circles around me, 

throws straw beneath and lights incense to 

     cloud my mind—, he grants me visions, 

pastoral, of valleys where fathers and sons 

labor to feed their herds, to safeguard grain, 

to roof their kin, mend sickles, flail, or scythe, 

keep dung ready for the hearth where flames 

     flash and crackle in my honor, I guess