Wrongness

Slice off the silver spikes

All your wild outsides,

The savage glint

of light on the tips and along the edges

Lay them out like the spines of an echidna

Flattened in a sheaf

along the road

 

Come back the next day

And with your cold morning hands

grind them down to fine silver

Carefully, and quickly

Make a dust and save it

Away from all the hawk eyes,

The jealous eyes

Save the wild parts

Keep your distance

 

One day you will build a house made

Of grass and reeds, and your own spit

Like a bird

Leave them all be and feather your nest

The time for these wild parts will come

To make a bed

To make a halo

 

They are still silver

Be patient

You are not tamed, just waiting