We crucify ourselves between two thieves,
fear for the future and regret for the past
where the certainty
of never again
and fear of the unknown
carry the weight of an anchor
with a short chain
in a deep ocean.
With it we tie our boats to the dock,
our rockets to the launch pad,
our children safely to the busy box
with its touch screen of substitution –
watching, for writing
sitting, for walking
velcro, for laces,
message for conversation.
It’s Adam and Eve all over again,
as it should be.
But instead of a choice of food,
we provide shackles for Cain.
We plant seeds for Able,
and pave them over
for safekeeping.
For safekeeping
we preserve choices
like pickles in jars
and put them away
before any questions
can be asked.
Before any questions can be asked
we remember past answers
and safeguard against
their re-occurrence.
And, when the life has been
safely choked out,
and the form of the former life has been
molded into shape,
when all is as preserved and perfect
as we think it should be,
we linger like deranged taxidermists
and watch for movement.