I Hold Four Hydras

I the crippled satyr
Have left cloven hoof prints in the garden and
Found the child entombed
Her fetal bones soft in her bejeweled casket

I fail and call
Have the oak in her mourning
Found refuge from deathly Saturn
Her limbs barred before the gale

I move not and
Have never a fear
Found though she is
Her door is shut

I sleep in the sun on my bed in my room and I
Have a dream that high though the peak rose I reached its summit and
Found dead men
Her face in the moonlight, too far from the shore

I hold four hydras
Here in my hands
And they bite and they tear and I cannot let them go

special thanks to John Darnielle and Seattle University Housing And Residence Life