Open-mouthed, the baby god
Immense, bald, though baby-headed,
Cried out for the mother's dug.
The dry volcanoes cracked and split,
Sand abraded the milkless lip.
Cried then for the father's blood
Who set wasp, wolf and shark to work,
Engineered the gannet's beak.
Dry-eyed, the inveterate patriarch
Raised his men of skin and bone,
Barbs on the crown of gilded wire,
Thorns on the bloody rose-stem.
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Comments1Wow, this poem really makes you think! It's amazing how it captures the raw emotions and desires through fascinating imagery 🌋. I love how it subtly tackles themes of power, hunger, and creation 🌹✨. Truly thought-provoking and beautifully written 👏😊.