it is 2:38 in the morning.
i think worries sometimes chalk up my throat.
i ingest things that cause stress signals
then imagine what it would be like if skin could be transgressed.
oh all these dangers,
the many hazards you may smell when you smell burning.
umbrellas in the hallway, fears and traps,
the men who pick the bones of animals and then throw them to other men.
did i stay long enough, make the right eye contact
will another revolution whisk us aside,
plummet all this century's precarious movements
like the bishop and the queen who formed my stature,
made me pawn.
tell me when the work is done
so that i don't get my hands all blistered
because as long as i don't breed
i will stay the right size
and sleep well, regularly.