Becoming

Sometimes
I watch all the not others
Their guileless rejection
everything I have ever dreamed
taken for granted
left
to dry
to husks
forgotten on the shores of their lives

They who have gotten
too jaded
too moneyed
too bored
hoard things I would happily exchange
their eyes are dead


Their grasping fists
their lust
their avarice
and shaded shameful vice
see my strong girl stride
chase like unicorns
but never see that
only innocence binds me

sometimes I hate them
those shysters
of domesticity
other times
I see how they once were
I see the crumpled dream
Cut my fingers on their shattered edges
only to see inside
dark
dead