The Last Needed Straw

I didn’t know — no, wait;
I knew. I told myself I didn’t
to preserve my self-appearance
of innocence
about such things
but I knew about such cruelty
long ago.

I put my head down on their desk
and sat for a long time in their dark.

My own light was crippled
and struggled to break through
but it came through although it was
as I said, as I knew, crippled;
clouded red with a filtered glow, dim red
I didn’t know — no, wait.

I did know. I’d read about it
in musty books and old newspapers.
I knew about it from tales
on TV, in movies. I’d heard about it
when I was younger from those
who’d survived its poison.

I sat for a long time
with my head down pretending
it wasn’t so — no, wait;
it was.

I sensed I had a duty
now, something to do with
standing up to it, getting to it
somehow, letting my likely last act
be against it
and falling before it,
one leaf on a dying tree
falling before it, my dreams
coming to life as I fall
before it, hoping for it
to be the last needed straw

but instead of leaping
to the correct explosion, the flash
of it coming true,
I put my head down and —
no. I let it blaze up.
I lifted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T