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Get a copy of this writing in the Mark Fleury 2017 poetry book the Eight Wheeled Doorway of Serpent’s Head on line:

The Children Are Climbing

Mark Fleury

The children are climbing
Out of the sunrise as though it’s a portal
From name to form. What if my body

Is homely and wants to smoke? Or I live
In the wrong house, with someone else’s
Loved ones and possessions? And if I leave

My body to search for the right one,
Will an evil spirit break into the one I’ve left
And start scaring the family cats?

My eyes might not have anywhere to hide.
The children of God want to know these things.

Maybe a priest’s uniform and collar
Could save me from climbing the dark stairwell
Of an abandoned warehouse that runs

Gums into teeth as I talk. The cold moon shines
From my eyes, gums banging together,

Bleeding bricks and mortar, crumbling
As they talk about who is to blame
For all of the wars, enveloping the minds

Of weapons factories like lace scarves across
The shoulders of kindly grandmothers.

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