After us the Savage God
               —W. B. Yeats

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Who bowls, bowls
heaven’s throne.
A lump of snow as I see it
on the screen is a frozen living spirit.
Are you aware who defined
your life in the war
one against hundred trillions?
The horse explodes if you
see him through the veil
and a suicide spreads as
the odour of flesh.
Thunderbolt, you, that recoil
from dry ground,
mercenary of god Tezcatlipoc,
you know!
The only soft abyss for
you is my mouth.

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Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Thomas Taren and author.

Previously published in Taos Journal of Poetry Issue #2 February 2013