Steaming (poem)
Steaming
She can’t leave where she is
with a sense of cleansed
but stands outside to begin, and in this dream
every turn of path shows another face
every door, with a yawn, pushes in without fuss
they sit with their backs against her
the lobbyists who wait
while fear grows loud
doors in heaven have slammed, and in hell
souls to fend for themselves are left
and wild beasts reveal intelligence
what have any of us done to prevent this
she chooses which post to apply for
carrying lives til their justice carries home
rejecting her own to champion the least
seeking prosperity in burglaring ingress
the sin of greed her shopping mall
dining out on a mesh-caged knoll
under halogen lights above pebbled pavers
counting the waxed cups and logoed papers
the labor of wind that sweeps them for collecting
southern seas sweating evils requesting attention
the lungs of found objects suit colonization
your brain to your predator a crumbled assembly
your normal destroyed by friendly fire
Steaming
Rattus, on Amazon
Gravity
(2020, Stephanie Foster)