Triped: the Way a Man Must Stand
Triped,
that’s me standing
Set on all three,
like three sides to a story
The one leg, medial,
is key to fruitfulness
and who would not want to enter,
of the host to whom this step is given?
Is there another door,
one from which lushness sprang?
Triped,
that’s me planting life
The third has more than delight;
it is to fashion a brood for hope
I tread so soft with one leg in a bag;
this is while bliss-searching
These streets we trod, amid treachery,
can cause a life of grief
Triped,
my blueprint to walk as a man
Am I my brothers’ keeper?
Oh yes I am, but not while this triped stand
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