Insight

Ain’t nobody got a use for
this bleeding heart o’mine,
cotton capillaries of the sleeve
where it lives soak up its hushed oozing.

Ain’t nobody got a use for
these easy tears o’mine,
the cuff of this thin shirt, not armor, no,
salt-white from mourning rain.

Ain’t nobody got a use for
these fine words o’mine,
a cloud near my lips, buzzing
gnats to be brushed away.

Ain’t nobody got a use for
these broad shoulders o’ mine,
bowed to inevitable rebuff,
shrugging now in defeat.

And I see him, as I have so many times,
homeless, filthy, muttering to himself as
he walks down the street;
his destination unknown,
his journey traveled alone
and I think maybe I understand
why.

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