Night draws near, brother ass
pale sister moon ascends the dark
brother wind makes a chill pass
from long ago and far away
where Francis dogs still bark—
they echo sorry old beliefs
that make you lesser than
a thing that’s called a soul.
As if some merciless sneak thief
has stripped you of your rigmarole
stolen all your oomph for dreams
of grasping the elusive carrot
and your fear of prodding stick
you slow a bit now, and seem weary
though you stubbornly as ever climb
the slope of each day, brick by brick.
You’ve been a good and faithful
servant— more than I can say
for parts that think and speak.
Yours is an understanding deeper
than all hope and pray. Are we perhaps
at last in sempiternal unison about
the moment that must come? Then
let’s together bray..and bray…and bray!