Axes Poem by michael oliver

The dropped coins -silver -bright - shine
Pondered at my feet - platform curated
After thinking - I bend, pick them up
Wait: get on the train - travel

A prosthetic revelation waits in embryo
A chimera screamed for it's liberation
Chipped, napped, laboured to uniqueness
Until held high - the idea incarnate

Arranged as totem in a terrain
Prettied by the multi shadowed pools
This formal liturgy of lithic henges
Remembers those hands those comfortable hollows

The quartz gleams as intended - pink
A fulcrum to a new augment
The stone larynx clears its throat
A voice of deity and mortality

The landscape flows as - trees - fields
Void of the Erectus foot prints
Now a Gracile presence of - landscape
All this - this - from one blow