Shem
The more that time
spins on, the more
I’m ready to tear
up the instructions
I’ve been given and
fall into a full crisis
of nerves, a tantrum,
a panic attack, the
wrenching apart and
frenzied ecstasy kind
that leaves people
in pieces, but
I hold it together
because the mores
have me shackled
to myself, wrist and
ankle, and collar,
bound to the laws
that govern us
where they’ve been
written into my flesh,
onto my skin,
shoved
into my mouth
like a shem.
