I will not be shaped by you,

no fucking way!

 

For I am me–as insistent

as the unforgiving wind,

as fragile as this blossom,

crumbled at your feet.

 

Love me if you will,

hate me if you must,

but never will any being

high or low breathe their

life on me, for I have

breath enough for just one.

 

I will not live out your

stylish wishes, in mannered

pretty words that cause no fuss.

No fucking way!

 

For this is the only prize I

have—this one life drawn up

to live and then to die.

 

Love me if you will, and make

that the breath to share, for this

is all that fucking matters in this

one grand unfolding, this reaching

to the sun, this fragile one creation,

called a blossoming fragile life.

 

4/5/2021