A Fitting Portion


Watch the changing seasons turn
	the tides of men, for reason burns
	a simple thought-
	a native friend not often sought
		these days in damp and darkened dens
		that sheltered once the Tribe of Ben,
	but in the quiet depth of those
	who honor there the twilight's close
	and know themselves to be wealthy men.

Each and everyone his word-
	a piece of self exists inferred
	therein.
What now, the bastard chorus lends
	itself false and fetid speech
	revealed such words that writhe and reach
		the city and the empty field-
		the womb that sets the crop to yield
	a fitting portion each.


---  by Jon Awbrey, Texas Tech University