Retrograde

Mercury sends its message again from the heavens
   I await breathless on the front porch
      tourniquet around my head
The street sweats nervous of the news
   the wind whispers nothing
      promises everything?
Blood drips off my swollen head
   shirt stained the color of the gods

White noise emanating from the home
   I have turned my back on
      its electric impulse screen of a heart
flickers war, death, rage,
   and greed dressed as love
      no talk of compassion to be heard

I feel like a tourist,
   so many sites with historical
      but no sentimental value
The language, though known,
   muddles the tongue
      strange idiosyncracies
strange ways of doing business
   but I played along 
      saw the sites
took no pictures

With my bags packed, I wait
   on the creaky wooden planks for winged deliverance,
     a lone star sits on the edge of the gloaming
As I face the sun,
   the shadows reach across 
      the pavement to grab hold
and pick apart  these ragged bones
   It's okay, you can have them,
      I won't need them where I'm going

Atleast I hope not