Ethereal Knack

Once I owned a black-glass dog
That collected metal keys.
I knew a holy cat
And hammered out one hundred thousand home-run
   slammers with a platinum baseball bat.

Nor was I satisfied with that.

I became a log of long-lost loves,
Sang my song in all the capitals of vice,
And cited law to rogue and saint alike.

I walked through hell in a shirt of snow,
Smiling and waving at those below.
With just my spoon and a bowl of rice,
I crashed the gates of Paradise.

I shall wear the stars for clothes
And see how far forever goes.

Now there is not anything I would do,
Or be,
To gain again that world, so high—though true!—
Where once this darkling sky was blue
And innocence was free.

by Robert Hampton Burt
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