Was anger the original spike
in defense of the blooming
cacti learning to hold its water?
Or was it born a red ripple
in seawall of muscle that didn’t stop
raging? When it took its first
shaken breath, was it siphoned
through a raw smile & too many teeth?
 
Crude pump of the bitter well,
fouled absence. Was it
a feebly erected structure
burning into the heap of its
flaming bones? Listen for the rib
of the mountain’s ancient scream—
 
Why is anything born like this?
Heaving for more air. Wild awake
through inherited lead lungs.
Powering a relentless motor.