a fist camouflaged as a bird, a very baby, bird
is born in a pile of bricks.

I open a door for a woman
because online a photo
has taught me
I stand
as all stand
for ******.

     home for good
with papers
she’s convinced
tell her what she’s like
in the workplace
my mother, my mother
like an artifact
of her own
paranoia

     survives.  

(I am a response to a world I’ve yet to receive)