the resist ants
Little boys talk all day
about the mistakes they’ve made,
say they cannot do anything
without getting lost in it,
so they dance in stitch of wit
to defend but not use their gifts,
and they can dance while they hold their breath,
but it don’t mean they’re proud of it—
how they’ve all got God’s attention,
and how they’ve all come all this way,
and how they all wanna make a statement,
but they’re not sure what to say.
Not one knows what to say.