Marissa Macy

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Major Master

Good morning Master, Major, good Sir,
I hail from three days before the end.
In the light my skin shone sweet, and here,
it is green from travel, blue from no air.

I followed the shaded man into the vines,
through the canal, into the future and to here.
He told me to go back, said no further, no further,
but it was a rough, pleasant trip, the weather just right.

And the vines cut, the man said they would,
and in the nights I moaned and groaned,
but it felt alright in the vines and on the canal,
two days before the end, and then just one.

I followed the shaded man into the last valley,
where he begged, pleaded, tore his hair, said go back,
but yet here I am before you good Sir, Major, Master,
my feet turning red, my eyes all black.

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