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To His Soul

           Soul,
You too are just another locust,
Only lonely in the swarm,
           Soul,
You pagan clinging to this body,
Your rabbit’s foot, your charm
Against the death that pricks
Your ears up in alarm,
           Soul,
You firecracker hidden in a midden,
You prize that is in every box,
           Soul,
You web designer, working from home
In nothing but your socks
And in that home so scared you spend
Your whole life checking locks,
           Soul,
You self-proclaimed sequoia felled
With just a couple thwocks,
           Soul,

You too are just one more deserter,
Haggard, eager to disarm,
Hoping these Americans
Don’t mean to do you harm