Holding steel to their eyes
men walk upon the earth.
My hands atrophy in their thin space,
trapped between earth floors
tiled with squares
the size of
their hearts
and ceilings of sky blue, even
rain seeds of men’s convenience.
Attending to my birth
in trees’ wind-switched limbs
my swelling maturation
in ruthless floodwaters embrace, I age
under earth’s continuum, within
the blood soil fortitude
hands prisoners trapped in steel
jaws of a civilization I so rarely
comprehend.
I am merely an embarrassment
I do not speak of
in the company of my ancestors.
My hands I try to draw back to myself
where they belong.
orphan poems 