.

Into the window of time, new-opened,
Adam’s hand, Prometheus-like, was singed
condemned for stealing, spread-eagle
on the deadened land –
fire his chain, his bond, his plow,
fire and Midas-like
every tongue greed touch of red-gold spreads
over eons and ages and sins of man.

.

So now we all, all are inflamed.
Flaming shadows burn bright cold the night
ravenously flickering icy breath
belching forth nothingness
and taking all in payment
for Adam’s pecunious hand.
Peccata Adam
the burning fruit.

.

(An uneasy compromise,
Prometheus made,
his freedom, life, to give mortals fire,
and every house-burning, cross-burning,
lynching, blaspheming,
surging hate-fire his gift, his sacrifice
for warmth and passing comfort –
a curious price.)

.

Adam’s price – comes the promised Hand,
unsinged, to undo the happy fault.
The only water to quench the insatiable flame,
bloodmixed and flowing,
hotter than fire.

.

(Prometheus knew his gods,
no mercy they, no love,
he lies yet, burning.)

For us the sanguine flood, searing
searing away our inherited scar
hotter than sin,
and more passionate –
it stirs us to stand, to speak
new tongues of fire.

.