Born in gilded fealty to the state, which was the people’s will,
which was the refined sugar of suffering and indifference,
which was the inherited burden of society, gift of the forefathers.
Bathed in cream, I transmuted hayricks into silk and mirrors.
I ate and destroyed, seeking relief from my depression.
I wore a crown. I shat out New Worlds. I fucked countesses
and courtesans, ballerinas and dairy-buttered damsels.
This century will be my last. The Era of Titanic Peasants
recedes and the future wriggles free of old categories.
Thus they imagine themselves: citizens, technocrats, zealots.
I tore down walls, emptied dovecotes, and now the pigeons
are coming home to roost. Lacking wings, they must crawl.
Campbell McGrath is the author of twelve books of poetry, most recently Fever of Unknown Origin. He teaches at Florida International University and lives in Miami Beach.
