I too am alone
in time. I shake
this blade of grass
from my body
of dew and for once
the morning light plays
all the way through. I fall
like a nail to the pavement
at the verge, and am a nail. Waiting
for the thinnest of margins, a bicycle tire
or - no human foot. That would be cruel.
Plus I lie flat and unweaponized. I
too
am alone in this world. Waiting
for someone to pick me
up, angle me at,
and pound me
flat.
Then
only then: hold.
Hold in and altogether
to be of use 'til what binds us
burns down. Such purpose
and fit, but fantasy now. I too
am alone. In time. Thin,
and pointed and dewy
and fine.
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