the writing machine

When the cunning engineer built the gilded cow
your mother crawled inside,
to fool the god's white  bull,
and let her have her pleasure

did he foresee you, your awkward crown
and the palace he would build
to hide you in?

When you squatted
at the center of the maze
like a dull spider,
among the bones
and greaves, inevitable

did you see your death
come strolling, unwinding thread behind?

And when he had taken
your life from you,
and left you in the center of that story

and began to ravel back the thread

did he see, tugging
on theother ends

the woman avenged, and the
children thrown, bloody and dead in a heap,
the dragons teeth that sown
sprouted armored men?

Did he see the them carving, even then
his seat in hell?