another

(begin stream of poetic consciousness)

a morning of slick winter coats
pushes and pulls and
destroys whatever
distant thoughts of driving
or flying
i once knew.
it is
a drop of spring rain
a sunset
a grain of sand
that permits me to sing
that permits me to run
past jade hills
and towering brick sarcophagi.
but there are black eyes
and black skin
and black steel
ominous tongues of metal
double-barrelled death
gripped by tiny hands
tiny teeth clenched
falsely masked by ferocity.
counterfeits.
frauds.
it is they
it is they
who cause me to cry.
who cause me to scream.
it is for them
that i clench my teeth.
that i tighten my fist.
it is for them
that i will fight.
that i will live.
i will turn these tears
to flight
and i will sing
until morning.

(end)

peace,
sam