a poem
I smear WELCOME on my forehead
spread myself on the ground
so good at following directions
I tell myself
I have no purpose
but to wipe away all traces of an unclean world
with my willing smile
my sacred act of hair and tears
so go ahead, grind your heel
into my spleen
that’s what it’s for
mmm, your shoe leather tastes heavenly
You taught me how blessed I am
to usher you into sky-high offices
where decisions are made, at mahogany desks
that cradle your gleaming wingtips
licked clean by genuflecting
generations of meek inheritors
who cough up ash and believe what you say
and besides,
your foot on my solar plexus
doesn’t hurt at all, and
I can always shower later
when the earth is mine
I tell myself
I tell myself
If my writing moved you, please consider clicking the clapping symbol below (the more you click, the more you clap) and sharing. Thank you! ~MP