Skull mural mirror

so... they've got the mural of my skull
here
they allow me to stare
at it
sometime...

I'm recognizin' those yellow
trails
of pillage
red streaks
of constraint
amazingly fractured
wisps
of self

maxilla
cheekbones
orbits:
the unchanging
points of
reference...

all since the time that fears me
& loathes
me
continues

the giant bone tree
stuck to the mirror
of
former
selves
&
dead leaves on coffee
do drown

vast as the sky over Andes
& very well written
on ice
sheets

whose fingers should I blame
whose fingers
promise
redress

& ain't that already
rebirth
in a way...

ain't that already
seconde
vue...