Dubhe’s Devastation

(The First Footprint Poem)

Once, a cloud, a scriven knife,

drained The Dipper Big,

spilling all the future drops

in grim grass like a bin.

Sky to ground like vertigo,

I’d no flowers live,

nor a paltry plastic plant,

just stoneshead in a line.

Mud or dust, I’d will to you

footprints for your grave;

lost star like a needle sharp

found gone in pure-wet grain.

I’d confide in restless peace –

fire, flies and growth.

Could I join your astral bath

to shed my living groan?

Then I’d driven off again,

wise to deer, to spook.

I’d wished for no need to leave,

but empty is the spoon.

I endure to weigh the dirt,

even as I move.

Dipper may, one night, be patched

with sunlight from the moon.

Mud or dust, I’ll ever be

footprints on your grave;

lost star like a needle bright

found gone in clear-dark grain.