on knees, in sand
with bones all broke and blamed.
Broken glass, unfit to mend
For panic still we spend our will.
i crawl on knees bloodied and beat
to the place of sharp and stone
i cut my clouds and bleed the rains
for wanting to atone.
the thunderstorms anoint my breath
with every hurried phrase they catch
the whiplash building down in the dark
will some day curl the furious heart.