Cobweb of Carbon
The inconvenience of soggy skin
is wearing thin
whatever patience I had left.
Prom night blue dances on filters
of the most perfectly meshed glass
that will never find Cinderella.
Last week, between tiny tornadoes
and overly large gloved hands
we built her pumpkin-orange.
But within those porphyrin stacks
lies a heartbeat,
based on every blood bound creature.
It’s iron relentlessly beating
for an escape from the cobweb of carbon
that sings its new life.
