I don’t trust that bird of prey

She keeps feasting on my laughters like dinner


Keeping me living and living in a waiting room

Where moonstones capsize, finding their nests


Sir, hand me my freedom

The times are tired too, I be

The storm you keep blanketing


He asked, who are you to say

Stutters, I – say because – I feel I – am

The boy, the father, the blood and the sea.