I am a black sheep bleached white
(not everyone wants to know that)
aged gray and unposed

I am a coward
shot from cannon to fairchild
and there has never been a breath
in my lungs
that could sustain a saint

I am so frail
flung harmlessly through
a world unconcerned with
where I was going
yet to learn
where I had been

I hear horses racing desperate
under search lights and war drums

I am a body that slips back to life

my hands are spiderwebs
my papers are forged

9:54 pm  •  30 May 2012