We are wedded with tragedy
Like a night flight
Shrouded with nervous attendants.
Sparrows fall from trees
History swats flies
A roadkill cafe
Serves them up with fries.
Why’s stick in the throat
Looking to break open something inward
Or outward, whatever is grim,
Unyielding
Petrified
You know were all once children
And children we must again become
To access the guileless honesty
That salts the earth, not the wound
In this skin made for dancing in.