rhetoric

rhetoric

i appeal to my chronic language
the sole part of long-drawn years
am given table scraps

whole worlds are built on
such sage leavings
        rarely questioned
and what might i ask that is not(?)
       second-hand

sweeping in a full arc
               souls under the table
pass unnoticed or if noticed, unmourned
                       still we are
lightless-deep in our fathers' runes
cowering, i too
                 for the asking
       would be naught
                  courage less
                i wanted an answer