Stuck Again

At home, at the crossroads

hairs raised,

all heckles

and sharp fangs

ready for biting words

blistering stares.


Fear of people is more the fear

of a monster inside

the one that says slash and hide


The one that can’t describe

the desire.


My desire for a world

that didn’t force me to adapt

to be willing to hurt, hate,

long enough to rend back.


My desire for a world

where I don’t learn what’s

sharp enough,

blunt enough,

or what ways to swing

to disconnect the thing


from it’s brain stem, from it’s heart.


I think if I took one I’d keep it wrapped

in a baby blanket,

give it coins for passage to a world


where I might follow.


I know hundreds of ways to kill someone.

My parents trained

Others concerned for my deer-stumbles

my fawn-eyes

taught me how to make stone tools

that have rendered millions of gentler hearts



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