trebling wail not unlike the plaintive, guilty yowl
of the alley cat - those hands must work hard
day in day out of the darkness there comes light
i can't imagine
that what i do imagine
has true bearing on the matter;
what is the matter?
averting the light from those abalone-blue sleepy peepers
luminous with misplaced rage, the sort that bank tellers
must receive when the stock is down;
what if i shine this light in those tender bulging eyes
pupils contracted in cruelty; furious resentful won't forgive
me tomorrow; in self-constructed sorrow.
Shake the baby: see what falls out.
hard work to learn that hard work doesn't necessarily
accomplish what is greater than its constituent parts.
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