Starred And Stoned

We are legion, in between the plates of this skull: Terra firma, of the mind’s fickle boundaries On a piece of planet, that keeps getting recycled; From burnt supernovas, to soup kitchens: How many distant whispers from my old remnants Call to me from the dark, moist body of my mother? How many other plots have I called home, While inhabiting these collections of dust and plasma- I can feel my once-atoms trying to summon me again, From every corner of this starred-and-stoned universe; For I was Sister Moon, once known to St. Francis, And I am part and parcel of the unlikely rabble Burnt St. Joan’s body into the stake, upon unsympathetic scaffolding; My bones daily bear the brunt of every curse and offering, Here in my own timeless tragedy, of trembling flesh.