Every Broken Thing

A La Vita Dia
The Poetry Of Lance McKnight

A La Vita Dia

              This time light
              won't reach the tree. You'll fall
              down to your knees, pound dirt,
              roll over and betray blood
              in your palm. Men

              march by slow,
              hang their heads and wail
              sounds to the sky. No steel
              will pierce any man's flesh. The woman
              leans on stone and refuses water
              more than once. In shock

              a boy consumes bread, looks to
              the stars, sees the earth rise.
              He looks down to his hands, feels the skin
              shake. And the cock will crow once more.