The first gentle push of humanity found talent--
Stitch me up a curtain.
Make me a cane out of
Reaching wood.
Destroy the colony of moths eating me
Using sugar to fell their wings,
Using water, any heaviness really, that
Easiness to be--
To be.
Prevent, too, these caprices of magnificence
As what I build does not bleed,
But nor does it collect interest.
Allow for a before that I might
Return to it afterward,
Forgive my moment's pause,
My talent fights--it stutters.
You are awake I know,
And if awake means awake to me and
To me availed which though unlikely
Is ideal, then your talent is awake too,
Needing to correct,
By curtain or volition
A vulgarity not beholden to
Wishes.
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