12.12.06

Jounce me from this stance, friends, before my limbs
and skin, blood and saliva, ossify
into bone—bleached and smooth, hardened and slim,
and I stand statue still, and terrified.
Shake me from this lethargy, friends, before
My dreams sink to the deepest ocean floor—
a giant squid sick of fighting sailors,
and too tired to reach tentacles to shore
in a menacing way. Gore me with tusked
benevolence, and let me bleed my thanks
onto the dirt of a bull ring, as dusk
ends the faena. Force me with guns, tanks,
and battle cries to conquer and create,
and I will thank each of you without wait.

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