In Wild Bush

by Austin McCarron

In wild bush,
on gold stones,
on steps of green
and yellow wood,
the lamb grazes with
flesh of sacred curls.

Imperial laughter
attends the meal of love.
The knife healing the
stricken bone is shining
with blazes and powerless
as kings is the
blood eaten of fiery wounds.
The sun, grown weary of
flames, reveals only mystery
and blindness, visions of time.