Cautionary Tale

A cruel and arrogant
prince once barked his shin
on a myth in his path to conquest —

you would think he’d be angry,
or humbled.  No.

“Never mind,” he said, “no matter.
I will take it and put it flush
into the floor of my great hall
where it will be at once foundation
and trampled upon.” 

He did.  He took the myth for his own.
He trafficked upon it
until he wore a groove into it.
And when inevitably
he tripped over the groove he’d worn
he cracked his crown, and
so he died.

When we see those ruins
of his palace now,
we know that stone at once:
it’s red and smooth and
the stains he left all around it
remain evident
though the stone itself is clean.

Never worry
about conquistadors,
appropriation, those who steal
the myths of others and build upon them
and hold them
as their own.  They fall,
always; eventually,
the stones they’ve stolen
catch them up and they fall.