As my cat lays her killed bird At my step, pleased, I lay This at yours: when the word Of slander came to slay Your dream of self as good, Did you give your rage a season Off road, crash the woods And howl for reasons As if another bride had died? Or did you pray for common sense? Now you know: just step outside, Where loitering and rude events Beyond your innocent invention Will introduce you to disgrace, Trip your liberal intentions, Suckerpunch you in the face. Deep breaths, Tom. There's art At this low common table Where we eat each other's hearts: The shadow's shadow, able To employ our wounds, defy The soothing grave, and be. For us, for it, the wolf I Wrestle by the ears is me.