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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Where-wolf, as in the wolf of that inner space that reacts when the walls are closing in. I wrote this poem to deal with contrasting feelings of being both trapped and empowered to act at the same time -- a poem about the things YOU have to do and the things ya gotta do. A poem about living civilized . . .

Submitted: July 07, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 07, 2012





There’s a surface

Then there’s a wall

And the wall is bare

From all the times it’s been hit


There’s something beneath the surface

That longs to move beyond the wall

That sees a pattern of wallpaper and paint

And turns it into living flesh


Then there’s the projection

That acts as a surface

That’s thrown out at arm’s length

That you slam other people against

Until it’s raw

Dead flesh for zombies, dead flesh for feeding


But none of that really touches the whole of you

None of that really gets down to the business

That there’s room inside,

Four walls, multiple walls, a ceiling with faceted angles that look inward

At time, at the surfaces, at the person

That longs to move beyond the loft


But once loose, then what?

Run the naked world free of rope, barking, rolling in the grass?

Do you foam at the mouth?  Loose your docile nature as others have known you?

Do you remember what the reaper’s edge was for

And regard the chore with disdain?

Or pass him with a kind of grateful gladness in your heart

That says “I am free because of you?”


“you’re in survival mode” the hopeful teacher chides, “you have to make the shift”

“Tiredness will be the pervasive feeling.”

“A turn of the wheel of Samsara,” and you know the face is holy,

but as quickly as they are erected

you recognize

the wall, the surface, the structure, the fence, the rope

and you think about the patterns of wallpaper and paint and freehand drawing and music and the dance

and you say, only to yourself,


And continue on through the maze

Confident of finding your way out

Is there a way out?

How do you see the way out

When obstructions pass through your line of sight

Like clouds over the stars

Like clouds over the deep blue possiblities of the sky on an overcast day?

There is no way out

No way outside of you

Turn about and stand your ground

Defend your doghouse

Paint your mother fucking walls

And let the kids pet you

Keep your foam to yourself

Look to the times when you are alone

Look into the pattern

And escape

Sight unseen. 


© Copyright 2017 Keisha Gamman. All rights reserved.