Forgotten Ground Regained
Omertà
A poem in Norse Skaldic malaháttr meter
Omertá is the Italian word for the Mafia's code of silence about the crimes one has participated in.
I don't even know · if it's clear or cloudylugging the legg'd thing · out on the lawn.Amazing how many · are the mercury sentinels:darker by far · a house by day.
The stars are still there · since I stopped checking;I almost can understand · their first effecton the boy who bought · this beautiful contraptionwhen I bend my gaze · to the glass pinhole.
The moon, that monotonous · moving beaconhas a hundred holes · shadowed sharply,more cryptic crossed-to · and boot-caressed:We're no wiser · about where it came from
than the childish shepherds · chunking guessesthat fall as stones · -- though fantasies affix.It glows gliding · into splendid gloom.I can't consider it · incredible or true.
Perhaps, I ponder · putting awaythe jewel-like eyepiece, · it's just as wellthis race remain · on a crowded rock --the space we sport in, · is the spiritual realm.
Copyright © Michael Helsem, 1989.
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