To the almond-eyed friends who learned to love me
despite a loud voice and no sense of propriety.
To the muscled walls of jeers and fists who used me
as a butt of jokes and pushed me to move.
To the ideals who refused to allow me to stay close
and instead remained on the other side of subtlety.
To my hatreds and my hobbies that have stuck
to my skin no matter how often I’ve itched them
Our animal natural is close, a thousand pounds
on our chest, a weight on every bone.
Though we may like to fly, gravity and rage grounds,
a warm meal granting out bellies a moment to dream.