Her Minister Eyes

The barbed wire
Takes its pound
Of documented flesh

Rusty in normative sound
Our tetanus shots
Our thick & thin trims

The adjustments
Heaving us up & down
With life’s misery

And those moments
Breath tasting pure
And immaculate

Her Scarborough fairs
My running aioli
Witnessing our paradox

We’re yesterday’s soldier
Life & death
Abstract illusions

Motioning down
For acceptance
Of beauty