tough it out

putting a fist into the moon's belly,
i thrash like the eel i am.
we had no use for privacy 
not when everyone was 
lighting their backs on fire.
all the dads called me "writhe"
for how i responded to the iron.
brightness is so often 
associated with good 
but when i see a glow
all i can think is, "where will i hide?"
mid day sun. why did being a man
feel like such a process of loss?
shed the feather & the ripe apple.
the trees had on their victory faces.
a staircase is just a staircase
if your legs aren't wool & willow. 
i prefer to crawl on all fours
when i encounter a stone.
the stone saying, "don't be
such a pillowcase."
i breathe through a straw
& i lie & say, "i am alright.
i can do this." this has cryptic blue eyes.
spits on my shoes. i turn my knees
into stomachs. eat as much as i can.
picked up by the scruff of my neck
& carried into the boy zoo.
"come on," the stones say. 
i try & try but i am sitting in a ball pit.
the snakes have taken 
my vertebrae for their own. 
"i can't," i say to a toy gun on the table.
my shadow takes a pocket knife
& tries to cut himself free.