Sparta

A wild nature throws itself
Into the monumental posture of a god
With the aching force of failures unstuck
The haste of accelerating bodies crashed
Breaking off the stiff style of a manic cold

Wax takes the wick
Time into death
One lies down in the other
A worm in the mud
Turning dry
Unmoving ever on

All things collect themselves
Back into a neat single file
We wait for the sign;
The thin gown of a shadow
Leading us back to the town.