“Nature, red in tooth and claw”

It’s cold and empty in my skull
A vast and primordial sea
Crossed, unformed
Alone and infantile

Most Sundays have eyes like mine
Tinged red with worry and regret
As the seventh restless day
Creates the seventh sleepless night

Red, red as the bloody birthing sky
Giving rise to the sun
Red as the dim-witted rose
That forgot to grow thorns

Red as the guilt and the doubt
In the love you lived without

Red as the smell of blood
Between the teeth
Behind the lips that meet
to say:

This.

This and this and this.

This is what you can form, this is what you can become, this is what you can choose to be, to be!

And this is what you cannot.