Words that are hard to breathe
and darker still when dropped from your mouth,
like apples fallen from grace
to the gravity of their situation,
suffer to make a beauty breathe hard,
her grace out on a limb,
and her savory fruit
hardly breathing at all.
They called you dawn when you awoke
and lifted your head above the sun.
They called you down for love and mud
as a son more feared than far.
Thus a sage to guard yourself;
cracked lips can still crack smiles
but detract nothing.
A sun sets. A son shines still,
and sets still those lashing throws of upset.
What do they dare call you now?
They picked you once, they picked you twice,
and they aim to pick you clean.
To lie fat from swallowing their own disgust
would be unequalled victory.
But no fat lie so hollow
could ever take form and follow
as the leeches lie flat and wallow
able to neither charge
nor ill-change thee.
