I stash myself in words
and in borrowed thoughts.
chunks of me cover blank pages
that were once
a redemptive smile
on a broken man’s face.
the corners of his mouth
purse away my own tears
his eyes are my jailer;
unearned suffering may be redemotive,
but it holds no key for me.
the caged bird’s songs mean nothing
clipped wings are stronger than iron bars.
chunks of me cover blank pages
and in words and borrowed thoughts
I am free.
