On Worshiping the Griffin on the Old Painted Vase
Part feathered, part furied
Frozen in silvery confines and
Strip mined for your best pieces from
Wonderful, perfectly whole things
Like talons were not enough.
Like fangs were not enough too.
Proud but crossed fated friend;
Too brutish for the birds and too fowl
For the beasts.
You could not settle for either sky nor plain,
So you tore into each; rampaging clawed stitches
Into this inadequate earth, hoping to fasten a
tent out of wonderful, perfectly whole things
When the slayer has his lance testify
Against your rejection,
A “get back” to keep you bound to
Pick one or the other, instead you are
I loved you because we are both abominations.