The sidewalk’s crumbling with the passage
Of years subducted showing how heat twists
Every day of a fractious sweetness
Instantaneous in life and massive.
When fault lines opened in the road,
No wraiths emerged hellish or angelic,
But plumes of something soundable that showed:
To walk is incantation over relics.
More than residue, more than formula,
The sun, its music box winding and tormodont,
Conjures from gold and mercury ormolu
And binds the devout like the ring of a cormorant.
Sea floor spreads, a continent contracts as
Breeding accelerates to achieve its
Monumentality’s briefness egregious,
And crush, flow, depth grow gems in abraxas.
Tormodont – (Pronounced TOR-mo-dont) Having teeth set in sockets; usually describing the teeth of fossil birds, but here referring to the plucking mechanism on the rotating cylinder of a music box. In some music boxes, the plucking “teeth” consist of tiny pins individually set in separately drilled holes lined with glue, i.e., sockets.
In abraxas – As a talisman; from the mystical name “Abraxas” (pronounced a‑BRAKS‑sas) carved on antique gemstones used as amulets or charms.
