Or We Could Kill Some Time

Stone from the guts of a god,
Stone swapped for a child, that one—

What could it mean we ask it,
Of all things, what will be next?

It fell to earth in one piece
And is a lump on a stand,

In a box, in a green grove,
In a tent on the bare sands,

And we beg for it to speak,
While the god who should have died

But was swapped out for a stone
And saved, Zeus grew up to fetch

The stone from the wrong god’s guts,
From the god who was not time,

Who did his best to stop time
And to stave off all these tales,

These tales we can’t seem to stop,
More deaths, meals, gods, tricks, groves, rocks.