We are all very precious,
kneeling over with the wind,
wavering on our stems;
petals like raw and bitten lips,
gaping to the sky,
swallowing sun and rain.
Greedy things we are–
wincing from pinches,
then pinching everyone else,
licking around for
dark corners to claim,
like blind babies left
crawling on the ground–
beauty and grace
have nothing to do with it.
Let us scratch this spot
this one, right here–
over and over again
just in case we forgot
the word “pain.”
Finite thoughts are
more important than endless ones.
I promise you this,
beauty and grace
have nothing to do with it.
