THE OTHER

They did it to me.
I preferred dead, lying
in the mind�fs mortuary.
Come out, they shouted;
with a screech of steel
I jumped into the world
smiling my cogged smile,
breaking with iron hand
the hands they extended.

They rose in revolt;
I cropped them like tall
grass; munched on the cud
of nations. A little oil,
I begged in conspiracy
with disaster. Ice
in your veins, the poet
taunted; the life in you
ticking away; your breath
poison. I took him apart
verse by verse, turning
on him my e-ray
eyes to expose the emptiness
of his interiors. In houses
with no hearth he huddles
against me now, mortgaging
his dwindling techniques
for the amenities I offer.