Be ause Babe Never Learned

Poetry 78

To touch the sky— that was the dream of a few who stacked their bricks on clouds. Pipes slunk down like snowy snakes but became yellowed, aged, weathered. Every storm thrust them down. And they thought to build higher, but the sun melted their pillars, made them fall onto mountaintops that bruised their heel. Higher, they cried, higher! Then there were no clouds, only air. They had no place to stand and the fire of reentry erased their kingdom. Splash down to the ocean— splay on the sand— They thought they were building an Empire among empires, in grace, in love, in brotherhood, but all they built was a tilted tower— for they knew nothing of creation— only dreams.