No longer will you invade my path
steamroll my nights or
slash an afternoon delight

How many suns did I let you
set too early
screw up the clock and leave me

Weary, on watch for your next stab
at my heart
sick of being a pincushion

And now, firing up
a powerhouse of electrical charges
fierce as the flowers

A lonely blaze it is in and out the chambers
of memory, up and down valleys of my skull
where I learn to see in the dark

Smash monsters, squash your constant
nagging–whatever it is you want with my life,
you can’t have it.

          into the congress of evening
comes birdsong and windsong,
that assured stripe of light