The Hunter Takes Aim

by Mike Allen

So many villains fill this sphere with their lanterns.
My own stars dance to sketch a bow, draw back
to manifest an arrow.
The boys among you cheer
to see me rise broad-shouldered,
my breastplate stained with pale blood of nebulae,
my belt clustered with glowing hides.
The wise among you wonder
whose skins hang flayed
when predatory stares populate the sky
from horizon to zenith.
Do they dare wonder aloud?
In your lands squat my temples
of marble and topaz, almost beautiful
as the square-jawed, cleft-chinned,
sharp-cheekboned face
enshrined within --
the effigy you’ve masked me in,
exquisite and unblinking.
Millions kneel before my gaze
and avert their eyes.
No wastelands more hostile exist
than the surfaces of stars and
the gulfs they sail.
Question what allegiances I've made to survive
and my faithful will find you,
their aim as sure as mine.

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