340 BCE–278 BCE
you laureate of tongue and stone,
among the rarer hues
on the spectrum from brightest bright
to darkest dark—
the villagers throwing rice into the river
to lure fish from your corpse,
stutteringly radiant still, the dragon boats racing
in the pink light—
no I won’t sign up for old age either,
anacondas
and common pearls:
of the beginning of the beginning
who spoke the tale?
you did, you did
—from BOOKOFMARTYRS.docx by Cyrus Shams