The Embryo of Power Two strangers, we pick a path through the barren land, Patiently swaying between steps. In our hands, we cradle a blade of grass a jewel of silk Scarcely visible, Yet heavy with the scent of clay, Fed by the corpses of those who came before. We plant an ancient tune Upon a grave of jade lips, Then smother it beneath a veil of fog. And like a gut’s acidic groan, The cry of want rings out So we limp from the abyss, craving palms, Toward a tide of antique grief, Into the shadowed seasons of the wind. We stretch, ebb and flow, Toward the Gulf’s thick spawn Chaotic as the clouds’ selection. In our fists, water’s green churns, While metaphor thunders inside, Echoing into the eternity of songs. We parade in silence, Nearly birthing a bastard word of belonging So we carve a sleek slab of grins, Masks from doves’ tails, The hush of darkness, And fur plucked from dogs. We sew our faces into the skin of speech, Mending the sparrow’s flight bet...