THE FRAIL CAGE

…of self split open:
Everyone wants a piece.
Like fresh fruit on the interstate,
like blood on the tracks
tracing its’ own DNA,
like the taste of old pennies
on the back of the tongue,
I expect a miracle in a salt lick,
a sword embedded in the stone
of “How do you do?”
I expect the king to be shorn
of his mane, and standing in
a line-up, to pass for me or you…