blood

blood, blood, irrational blood

flowing through my gates
down my thighs 

useless and hysterical.


what shall we do about this blood

are we in control 
or are the fates?

here, i shall paint your face with my blood,
draw blessed archaic symbols 

on the walls of your arms and legs
remind us of the hunt,
the sustenance we need.

i call upon you to taste me
as we smooth the way 

for your dna  

to come inside me

when the blood is flowing

and it is safe
to welcome these eager explorers,
this advance party of terrestrial observers
who shall all die
in service to their queen.  


and yes, i shall conspire with you 

to send forth another party of your henchmen

your visionaries
afloat on the road to the sacred city

as I welcome them 

passed these holy gates
to meet my ancestors
and my future 

to become the entire history of our species
to merge and reemerge
bearing potential 

being potential
and for some while,
for the first time 

in a quarter of a century,
all this blood shall cease.