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A Part Apart
Share him like shingles on your roof
Beat the weather out of him
He’s free, free for collective bargaining
He wants December snow situated in silence
As the ice piles up the debt, these are his dues
He’s a diligent militant
This is his rifle, this is my pen
There are many like it but these words are mine
The ink is my best friend
It is my life
I must master it as I must master strife
There is no enemy in these wars but my peace
Give credence to my creed
As he spreads his innards on the floor
Trying to decipher the witchcraft
Turn the leaf as the season finds itself in mirror-born
Make spring a pun and get up
Let the joints creak like childhood stairs
Don’t fear the knees that buckle along the age wire
Shake dustworthy shoulders, broad through the shiver
Make this torture benevolent
For he gives so much of it freely
A part of me, apart from me
That is that, and this is this
No Venn for summer similarities
No sun soaked trysts on studio lot B beaches
And the season comes, and the season grows
With dead soil and acid rain
These seeds of him will never be
Make fall a pun, and lie back down
This is not your year.
