she felt vulnerable
so why scream naked

he demanded vision
so why gouge his eyes

they pardoned the past
so why celebrate then

why would a dying man
slit his own throat

for the pow of it all
for the change
the liberation

for an unspoken ism, left out in the bold
for Victory
for art or Love or maybe…for the magic of it all
the Madness of it all

for that certain fracture of time to heal
or to explode a chasm of indifference
for a soft-souled warehouseman to breathe

for a D flat solo under a tin horn moon
for the snap of a snare
the clap of a heart
for the going rate of freedom

for a sapling to spread open
for the taste of generosity
or for a lane change

or maybe…
just for the blood of it all