who breaks their back, and lines their cage
with glass to hold their power? Like a quiet
finch, tar-covered and hunched over
its child, murmuring a gentle salve.

        we wrench as a reed in the flow of
        a mighty wind, that crushes our chests
        and snaps our legs. We hold our liquid hearts
        in the fleshy sieves of our cupped hands.

Mercury slides
down the plateau of the cheek
I burn, I sizzle.

        I am only coal, within a great fireplace.
        Black and ordinary, but I can yet
        spit from the fire, heatedly
        like an angry snake.

I may terrify. Let my rough edges split
the yolks of rotten eggs,
As I come to the shimmering surface.

Through quagmire, the muck,
my vermillion sludge --
disregard it, my dear
bubbling up, without relent.