I take this mangled body of iron,
its acoustic of all malleability.
the flattened world outside
sings something so slender, a structure
of a rose.
as long as there is the fierceness of these words,
they will leap forth, a defenseless vault,
and cry a breakwater of rivers.
these words like caged birds peering out
into the ferruginous world consummated
by the oldest of thrills crumpled anew – fledgling beats
of dance, this hysterical morning that slinks to a clasp
of slipshod music.
when it is time for all of Earth to slumber,
I am the drapery and all unknowing eyes,
my children.