in the commons

there are things we share

often without choosing

common currents in our coding on the runway straight to hell

being as we are

unconsenting shards of stars compounded into breath and taxes

we wake into the day at someone else’s whim

in the light

in the morning

we are screaming for the cradle

of the matrix

for our mother

weeping for a shell

the dark and quiet of the being before breathing

but there are archangels and fates

to pacify

to cut the cord

measuring the thread

they sew our costumes in the patterns and the colours we will want

as our screams are tamed with sense

to ask for milk

to say hello 

we learn to move

rolling like the trolleys over asphalt to the shops

we learn to listen

to the radio and wisdom

taller people tell us all the things we need to know

what is wrong and what is less

news and stories

which ones matter

what we think

they talk about the day

and all the ways it can be spent

and so we work

and so we pray

all the king’s horses and men

to be a little older

to grow up into someone

before too long we find our reasons

strong enough to dull our demons

making use of precious hours dancing for some other powers

milking purpose from a treadmill

as we learn to love the boulder we can only move so far

stop to eat and shit and listen to the people on the screen

between static and our dreams

watching doomsday from the sofa

or the spring/summer collection

sirens singing us to sleep

because the day is long

and needs our energy to run

I dream of sardines in a box

trapped like heroes in a trick that didn’t work

screaming silently to gods that never cared

the joke was on us

I dream of eyes I never kissed

and an angel on the subway goes to work and takes the stairs 

when I wake I greet the ceiling of a day I never chose

I brush my teeth and wash my face and spit my dreams into the sink

find the path back to my boulder

like a goldfish in the mirror

silent

smiling without thinking

and tomorrow and tomorrow

with the clouds

and breath and taxes

on and on

until the sun decides to set

and the day begins to end

and the fates sharpen their scissors

and it’s time to scream again.