A door is not the slam it makes,
A human not the sob.
A fence is not a creaking gate,
A planet not a mob
Of unrelated characters
Untouched, detached, alone.
A marble's not a shard of glass
To slice you skin and bone.
Instead, it's all a field of mines,
A net that tangles legs
And trips us each one equally
From oligarchs to dregs.
Expanding swirling filaments
From which we'll never roam,
Discomfort's what we'll always share:
A minefield's not a home.
Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!
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