Volta Composed to a Stagbeetle

Ascending Dot, I knew your Grandfather.

He went from beetle strength to beetle strength

(strength is the sword he bears, the mailed garb

the stone-faced no-face). Late, the driveway was

a murdering meadow where he crept, and lived.

In March He hid himself in private prayer,

and, in unknowable accents, to his 

Gethsemane of twig and leaf, whispered

the story of the agony to come.

From grimaced silence soft as death, he dragged

himself to skyey exhibition! Glow-

ing red ascension, majesty that spooked

the wrens watching parental Task uplift

the one who died    so you could die His death.