HISTORY
09.08.19
Philippines II
call me Satyr
my body has never truly felt my own
filling it with vice and pseudo control
half finished sentences we’re a little jagged
a little un-finished
when i die, bury me with the brambles and thorns
let me be dried blood iron,
sweet honey suckle and poplar.
bark tender for fire.
i’ve never been unique
one of a kind un-replaceable
my purpose here is somewhere
solitary in tolerance
servitude by example
around a plastic table five people play drunken questions
one man asks the other
“If you are a cactus, why?”
the other man does not miss a beat.
“Because I was born a cactus, and I shall serve as a cactus, I’ll be the best damn cactus i can be”