How to Work a Book


I become an ant
My bones on the outside
I spindle the weight of the world

I am a bee
I breath air with my whole body
A single female brain with many memories

I am a mole
I smell the roots through the earth
And sometimes see the Sun by mistake

I am a dog
I ask the Human for assistance
But otherwise I run at things I fear

I am a lighthouse
Fresnel made my eye
That sees twenty miles of black ocean
Over blocks that are curved and angled
And the massive waves blow against me
Forcing me to be stronger than ever

I am the act of contrition whose
Roots curl through a staunch history
Someone recalled and found a way to preserve
I am not sure I should have done these things,
Written them or read them.



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