Sunday, February 6, 2011

poem

8

when the meek go collateral
they start packing the trains

they huddle beneath airplanes
blankets and manmade strains

they get pilfered and sapped
sucked dry as soft hillsides

veins emptied of dreams
for a spit-shined ambition

and lawncare centers churchy
after the first-born spring

afternoon blossoms into being
at interest and a neighborly look . . .

when the meek go collateral
their copulation is strategic—

the gene for meekness is not
going down without a fight

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