Dear Fickle Judge

Politely, thank you for engaging me But transform myself? No, thank you Leap for me, like a bullfrog under a blood moon in the heart of Guatemala Sing for me, like a gilded bird in a Tiffany bell jar Make three hurdles, five sprints, and nine squats into a banana sundae Thrill me, bleed words for me Knock on my attic window where I study alone, find and echo me No More, No Less I will continue to respire with ragged lungs A breath is presence It knows nought but its own truth It lingers to meet the crowd It passes