Adorn the Laurel Elisabeth Horan
Listen to the first and last time I will write about myself -
My nose was broken and my paws wind-chiseled My days of glory ended with Moses ’ crossing of a line
I want to walk in Africa no more beholden to Khafre plateaued in platitude
I could hunt up some Thompson ’ s pant by a river lick my sisters
I will never taste water nor walk in a garden I am only sandstone eroding
I long to shed my headdress for I am not Cleopatra Taylor ’ s moss-green eyes - in Egypt ? My darling Antony , neither are you Burton .
But it doesn ’ t really matter I have no claws and my country is killing itself - fighting wars on camels
Tutankhamun knew and I ’ ll be kind enough to share with you - what it takes to be an idol ; to adorn the laurels -
Persistent , lonely centuries . And those who come to worship