Aegis

the days are catching up to me
my unconscious fear unbound
is it time to tailor fit the notion
that come Sunday I’m in the ground

the obelisk fumes have occupied
emphatically austere
a smelter pile made by the debt collector
where the children should be seen, not heard
even if there is no way back home

I’m not running away

can you hear him saber-rattling?
with bones I’ve left behind
obloquy is the bulwark of his implants
am I your son or just a clone

Dasehra you were sworn to be
a window to my night
my subterfuge, just branches to the mandrake
where the children should be seen, not heard
even if there is no way back home

I’m not running away

under the aegis of cognition
I am dead
I will escape

en’grammic marks of ligature
am I dead
will I escape