STEAM AS A STONE

it never works out. the ants eat the butterfly
and the world keeps turning on bitter dimes.
but i have hens for eggs to mock-
my empathy; with a hunger more ravenous
than peace in a blanket
ether smitten by the yawn of continual strife
when a white flag should back over ravens
and gentle men should man up
just because.

but steam has a stone heart
and the heart a cruel steam
that a stone fears

like skipping ‘cross a lake
with a long wet cheek
and sand dollars

for a pensive.

like wave of 
you … Doing This
for Now.

for now.