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)