the world will wound you somewhere,
someway;
a bullet in the thorax or
steel jaws smiling around your shin – Yes,
the world will wound you somehow,
someday;
the world will watch and wait for signs of
a wither or a wilt,
blood in the snow or
a limp in your gait, yes,
the world will watch and wait,
while you worry yourself wretched,
Oh, have I wasted another winter?
Oh, will I win at this pace?
while the world watches,
wondering at your wounds
