"Speaking is the easiest way of becoming unknown."
—Fernando Pessoa
I can't correct
your endless mischief-making
the screech
of your raptor's beak
it's left me torn
gagged
by a truth too big for anything
less than a howl
on all-fours by a wet tree
giving birth to a star
that would rupture me
the way you spread
from floor to floor
strangling the house...
instead I've slipped out quietly its yours
take it
suck up all the air
in every room
the reflection in every window
is yours
it smiles back at you
but I'm through
I'm through
& running loose
I've caught up with myself at last
breathless, far from any nest
or burrow
huddling close in the weeds
under moonlight
the secret of all small
desperate animals mine
whatever's left in the trap
I can live without
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