The Grind

I think you’ve been

setting fires

beneath the kitchen table

in your own house

I look incredulous

but isn’t that 

what everyone is doing 

we’re all burning down 

our own houses

grinding our souls 

like the peppercorns 

against the wheel of the mill

until they could pass

as anybody’s

once our flesh is gone

we won’t have to worry

anymore about beauty

all of our bones

are the same

and we can yell anything 

out the car window

to one another 

and not 

have it matter.