Kinship

Myself and my kin
lay beneath the setting sun
as into aching bones
the labor of the day crept in.

In my mind my kin turned to me,
their face a mask of guilt,
and they admitted their sins,
the mirage as clear as day.

I raised a stone and slew my kin,
the moon shining a false white above,
I made a scepter from their bones,
and ruled my visceral kingdom.