Idol Worship

Bare your rib cage
barefoot boy.
Yours are the flattest, smoothest stones,
to skip across the water.
Blessings on you, boy child,
be the weight on the branch.
Creep out, confident
you are exactly what the limb can shoulder.
In these new hours
whisper more truths than you can bear.
My small son,
do not for a minute
let yourself be in disguise.

Yours is the song and the babble,
the fury, the desire, and the rage.
Yours is the cosmos, in a tiny
glass ornament.
The world awaits
your electric energy,
each sinew pulses
with latent vigor.
Erupt, shiver.
Rest assured you are
precious, prized
like a golden calf.