I have this need
to sometimes rhyme
my words, my phrases
give them time

I have never tasted locust-borne starvation,
or been forced to swallow ancient misbeliefs;

I have never run from engine-driven sea waves,
or been thirsty on an island cuffed with reefs.

uprooted from antiquity,
it dwells in possibility
dreaming of a vanity
it will not know –

its crowdedness unmeshing
requires scythes for threshing
to keep it from enmeshing
Corsican sheep.