Dane Mainella


Glass reflects a lucky
random culmination
of cells and
mitochondrial engines
pumping the mystical juice
of energy into the dynamo
of my creation

I once was an assortment
of pieces, atomic slices, all across the universe

Perhaps my arm was a piece of
or my tongue the haunch
of some ancient lion
who stalked in the dry
goldenness of the Serengeti
my heart a rock that
fell from an ocean bluff
my hands a bird’s song
my eyes a soldier’s soul
like smoke from a little fire
two people dance around, make
around on the coast of Normandy
my nails hornets from
the Amazon
my legs a Father’s
my feet some wanderer’s
abandoned rucksack