Sometimes the cry for attention is an eighteen wheeler
jack knifing during rush hour.
Sometimes the steel cylinder bursts open leaking chemicals
that etch cries for help into the pavement.
Sometimes the pavement is a red leaf
blending into the earth as silent as a razor cuts skin.
Sometimes the razor has feelings and auburn hair,
and wonders why ripping flesh could be as simple
as breaking a pencil in half.
Sometimes the halves of pencils pretend to be broken birds.
Tumbling down three flights of stairs
praying to transform into body and bread.
Sometimes bread cries 6 times a day
and birds fly 85 miles per hour with tears in their eyes
thinking that a lightening storm would be safer than nesting
Sometimes lightening storms hiss dirges that echo
on the chilled tips of fading visitors
and keen them back to life.
Sometimes life rushes back crying
and screaming into the earth.
Sometimes the earth is warm with blood.
Sometimes it is nothing at all.
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