I won’t apologize for this beat
I’m wearing like a white-and-blue flag on my sleeve
- a snake pounding its tail against the sand
along its long way to the first avenue
I may never get my sharp teeth into this big apple
I might never reach its sore and tender core
but I still have my myriad feet
moving sheepishly on a sun-lit wailing wall
- stick your prayer in it
and I may grow a pair
of hooves, of horns, of quasars
to light a candle for the night