Clever the Devil
Those crafty tricks
Pinching salt to the wound
Wincing for the cringe
And plucked from extended wings
Feathers built of rusted dust
Lofted to a sky too short for grace
Then crashed down among us
In some wretched glory
Fitted with just the right stuff
The stretched, split, and put together
Manifest a medicated Judy
And a most terrible Mr. Punch
Dried blood clotted to rocks
Gravel blistered from the sun
Trip the false step, and broken
Coarse, the path between us
MS
The Controlled Burn 