This golden cross about my neck,
This silver ring around my thumb.
In shining metals I’m bedecked
Until the days of flames here come.
Of tarnished copper is my soul,
Of poison lead I made my mind.
These elements compose my whole,
With every pro, a con is rhymed.
If only I were but a tree
And made of Boniface’s wood,
I’d burn with unembellished glee,
Like pages of my poems should.
— Konstantin Kanelleas is a Greek-Australian poet. He recently released his debut collection, Hyponeirisms. You can find him on Twitter @OrthoKon