In protest I say the word aubergine.
In protest I say the word gossamer.
Electrify. Soliloquy. There are, always,
a hundred thousand private horrors occurring
at any given second, but in protest
I set them all down, just for now.
For now I am busy loving
the cardinal that flits onto my porch
and shits on it, and the pain in my left knee
that is a real pain, not the ghost of sensation
in a limb that is no longer there.
What I mean is, this is my actual life
in this actual world. So in protest
I say the word filament. Galumphing.
I think abdicate is a beautiful word,
but in protest I do not say it.
There are so many better words
to be said. Like luminous.
Like tenacity. Like love.