The Morning Star

Satan turns on his wheel of light, 
hovering inside the Senate.

A beauty confesses to the power of air, 
a roaring socket of need.

The humans bear forth from their jelly, 
six rose-lipped mannequins.

—Who among these is most loved?

We will be forthright in our character analysis. 
We will stenograph on bright, bright branches.

Even as someone might bribe us: 
with a basket of fruit to our hearth;

with a length of black thread to our dead; 
with a boy with that thread in his heart;

with a boy with a snail in his heart; 
with a boy with toys in his heart, who are bowing.

Copyright © 2020 by Philip Matthews. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 13, 2020, by the Academy of American Poets.