a pinch of self

to be exposed against the limits of
the wind
is nudity of mind
of sex
of sexism

one by one - to fall, to fall
and then point to me
show me, goddamnit
what is your face before you spoke

to speak, to be exposed and to expose
your face - it's not a sound
not a fate scribbled in dogmas

let me show you peppercorns on a cob
crying for the loss of blue,
a mute butterfly
clapping with its eyelids
or, perhaps, a trifle argument
flicking through memories of salt

oh the permanence of a blink in a moment of seeing
an inch of sentiment thrown in
for good measure
to protect our serious sense of being
(a life-long lullaby
to the selflessness of things)