Breathing only in the
middle of the chest, through the heart,
(no side lungs left)
hearts push against a bone cage sunrise like
i am not worthy
we are not worthy

with a reconciliation of
cheap water wine and a two cent vocabulary
the world finds its place
behind the cloudy cancer of mortality, singing
prosperity,
prosperity.

and each letter recognizes its purpose
the consonants cut the vowels short before
the overgrowth trips the text.
"They are not like me" they say
hesitantly, one of us?
one of us.