nothing shall be untitled!

do not refuse to name it!
it will be cagey and take a name
you don’t like
if you’re not quick!

eat it before it grows
self-aware
and does the job without you!

ABSORB it into yourself
then squeeze it out and admire it!
It’s you, leftover!

let it take your own
goddamned name
if that’s all you can think of!

make part of it into your elbow knob
or perhaps a bladder cell!

you’re a discarded stick in the mud
waiting to take root
and drop fruit all around you!
here’s the chance
you’ve been waiting for!

put a name on it!
it’s not roadkill!
it’s a kid! a pet!
an ancestor! a tractor
for your field work!
dig a trench of letters!
raise up a voice to the sky
and call it something!
anything!  call it!
you’ll never get it to stay with you
otherwise!

What if
you allowed yourself
to be a fist
in the presence of
your enemies?  Not to
raise a fist, but to be one:

carry your whole being
in a ball and
resist the blows while you hold tight
to yourself?  And when
the conflict is over,
with no memory of violence
against another:  the fist
you were is gone,

you’re an open hand again.