Since the beginning of it all
we've tried to be the individual
when we all pounded our head against the rock
in the very same rhythm.
Who was the first
to pick up a twig
to peel apart the bark
and see something to
more neatly split bones
and shiv their friend in the back?
Who was the first to find an
enclaved rock
so curved it caused their voice to
boom- so loud they could
see a fourth wall between them
and the gawking few.
Who?
Since the beginning of it all
we've tried to be the individual
when we all pounded our head against the rock
in the very same rhythm.
But only a few make a sound.
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
Poets United Contributor
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