Returned now to habitude & ugly
old attitudes resume.
Refrain from razor-blades against
but now place them instead between the teeth
so during sleep the mouth
fills with blood
forcing shame to keep
a silence unredeemed
by graceful movement or delicate features;
eyes that do not see the open,
of the pulsation, the differentiation
life from death, death from dying.
Until, once again, the morning comes when
a mother bends to brush against
& the animal rejoins the wild challenge
begin a new day, with
different hunters, different prey yet
always the same ancient struggle
the panic, the shit, the pain that afflicts
all living things.
Grace is acceptance, grace is
for the hunter to eat the prey must die,
& for each to drink
the gaze must sink down toward the water.
There, where the reflection resides.
There, where there is nowhere