VIII. On freedom from anger and on meekness
Margaret Bashaar

To not swing the hammer.
To unhook this rope from the spine.
To swallow and swallow and swallow.
To peer through the clean window.
To crack the back's pinched nerve.
To loose the teeth from the jaw.
To breathe out that corner of air from the lungs.

When the heart beats like a rabbit drum tumbled stone.
When the hand's fingers are splayed.
When standing silent outside the door.
When the sun slips from the eye.
When the eye drops from the skull.
When the whole body is parenthetical.
When breath is all thickness, all liquid.