Creation is the dust of suffering
Ashes of char blackening our deepest forests
Burning raw life wild.
Blended alchemy
Water and gasoline
Our contaminated mental disaster
To sort humanity
From what it is not.
Creation trickles from intellect's blood
Streaming through the Charles River
Marches nearer east toward revolutions
Entrenches Detroit's drug scene
Clenches million dreams and
Starry bomb nights of
War children.
All which is creation
Is what creation is not -
Uncomplex. A middle-America
Wife, bland
Slouching in a mid-week waiting room
Tapping grocery list toes to
Pastel art stuck to eggshell and
Anxious florescence clicking
Inside a daughter's ear infection.
Creation does not come here
To a middle-America mother
False stranger to unsuffering concrete.
Why then does she gasp, inner ear
Combustion
A gas life underbrush -
The scholars' debate
Dignity rising thousand squares of assembly
Toledo Avenue meth corners
And cries of Kabul.
Why must she plain be neither
Water nor gasoline
When so desperately on Wednesday
She waits for the forest door
A clipboard calling her insolvent need
To give creation away
Pry wide open
Genius minds
Tiny hurt hands
Reach far inside
Burning trees
And give them her name.
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