FEVER

THAT i exist ; shall i taste pain,
for Earth and stone, singing for air,
mud, wind, and coal?

My backside is torn. A form
        of hungry creatures
sampling my honey heart;
        weeping in tears.

A thought can break rock
priests and politicians
only on paper.  Rivers that
move pebbles in water
leaving paths unknown.

My knees upon forest green
at night by moonlight
the wolves howl beneath
the leaves leaving plumes
o’ breath:  i — like them
consume myself.

:: 06.09.2022 ::