“Helmet” by Robin Wyatt Dunn

When I lift my head into its warm embrace,
And feel the awe that comes with power,
And thrill to see the shadows spill into my brain,
I whisper to myself:
'I am a mirror'

The mask is dedication,
It's an abstraction,
It is a richly figured drug,
And I work its work by throwing off all suppositions,
Notions I had had,
To steep my eyes in sentience not of Earth.

I cull the world you know!
I wield a serpent's tail!
I will the whir that burrs beneath your bones.

My headpiece will outlive me,
And I only do but what it says,
But its ochre grey rust that thicks onto my cheek,
Is worth any lifetime's suffering,
Only to feel it curve across my bones.