A Post-Covid Journey Through Media
1: Bee and PuppyCat
some of us are born to be mothers
or born to be fathers,
others only to inhabit the shape of a monster,
wherein the cradle of our bodies
encages just a carcass of the kid we were
whilst the kid we are
wanders far outside the cradle bars, cloaked in vomit, poverty and stars.
they can’t call us failures to launch;
since we do in fact walk the black of space,
be it with but a partial tank of gas and only change for
lunch, none for ourselves.
at least we earned that change
by being —- at something.
but we cannot call us
back to the spice of youth; we cannot
bake, we cannot wait, cannot make
what an embarrassment to pay your way there