first it laboured to be born
didn't want to (determined not to) leave the womb
until it saw the harsh light beckon

then it began to walk, collecting data
and its force from there and here
it is now, adolescent

trying to make a (good) impression

don't doubt this poem's stubborness
like any kid it wants to stand
out, hang around and chill

hard now to dispose of
irreducible
like some evil movie monster

it takes 6 sequels to kill

Suck it deep into a memory cell
it can't be left unread -
what's your reaction? (now that it's not dead

you will set the course
of meaning and effect)
like a tiny nuclear bomb

the interior design
can't be written out of it
cannot be undone.

It won't impress the centuries
won't outlast the pyramids
the Principles of Ethics

(or the Sermon on the Mount)

a ripple in men's minds
a passing breeze, in the hearts
of their sons and female counterparts

Words and art leave
some prints too -
dirty thumbprints on this human zoo

more than might remain
on the mirror and the grave
that contain your eyes
so with these lines

I leave it up to you.
What good deed will you do?