i want to believe
i would take
debris & craft
an arch
not rush my hands
to draw a long red line
down his face
spit from a red mouth
above the brow
or dig a tunnel
through the lung
just wide enough
for a spirit to flee
how long after
water becomes rare
do we become
what we won’t name?
how long could you
starve before
you rob a man or
hunt him?
i fear my making
how quick i might
evolve
into a new kind
of creature
i can’t
say i wouldn’t
smile