Poem 74

on swallowing my ego

very much like an acorn
capped absentmindedly risking
the ebony beak crack
clack cackling at the stem.
what then do you tell the acorn
wrecked surely from the feat
that birds too need to eat.
very much like the acorn,
bitter to the tongue and worse
to the ground afoot with
gravity too wasting no effort
to pull it smoothed under.
very much like the acorn,
perhaps contrite, perhaps
but don’t you look smugly behind
the cricket eye of anonymity.
a bird needs to eat of the thick skin of
a new acorn, and it too must be broken to proceed.


Poem 74 RevisedPoem 74 Edited