Inside
you is a bulldozer.
One
by one shacks are brought down,
huffing
like rabid dogs eating black dirt and bones
For
years you have been convinced life is a locked cage,
love
must be suffered.
Remember,
you
were invented in a glaring hospital room
when
a blurry nurse gave sterile blankets a sharp slap.
Out
you came, gasping, hale, making a fist.
And
off you ran, through the twisted spokes of a bicycle wheel,
atop
broken canning jars, between crumpled cars,
kicking
at burning oil cans and two bad marriages.
The destruction complete.
--Mitchell Hegman
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