Rocket

It’s enough to have kneecaps,

        and a starship in your belly, 

red-lights and all. 

Space-time is a delicate structure.

Have you ever formed a fetus,

          played pattycake with your feet, 

bent and broken like a baby, 

rocking to choral music. 

I know my skin is sticky, 

          cause I painted my forehead, 

my sacred spot, with ash, 

downtrodden, coiled like a spring

There are elephants on our trampoline. 

           You big-brained, flat-footed, 

tightrope walking idiot,  

let’s bounce.