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.

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

I became a log of long-lost loves.

I sang my song in all the capitals of vice
And cited law to rogue and saint alike.
I shall wear the stars for clothes
And see how far forever goes.

There is not anything that 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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