In the Olduvai

In the Olduvai toward the dusk
A sparrow sings of blood and musk
And mutterings of bones and grotesque skulls
Creep like menace from the primal crevice,
Crawl like scorpions into my ears
And nest.

Wherefore this pick, this brush, these tools
I gather up, make ready for the dawn?
To get at you, toolmaker, fireshaker, rocktrader
Buried in dim light that juts from dust
Content, reconciled to infinite silence.

Or perhaps the nourishment of indiscriminate lions:
The marrow of your sudden revelation
Mere sustenance for another ancient hunt.
Let the lion have its hour.

I have come to Olduvai
To be the one
To crawl inside the ribcage
Intercept the whispers
And press my name onto your nameless spine.
Press my kiss upon your mocking forehead.


© Rhett Talley