Outcast

Consider the alternative--
to be locked out of the body,
the mind consuming itself
in the cannibalism of ego.

Madness, when the door stands open
to the fibers of hair
woven at the back of the neck
waiting for the warm breath
of the lover to ignite
the flame of the universe,
wrapped in one small woman’s body.

I would rather be this kind of outcast.
Stop the care of worry about my reputation
or some set of man-made rules
that hold me prisoner
near the home of my soul.

I will not give away my rights to freedom,
but must first study the laws
I will choose to abide by.
Each ridge of each fingerprint
an expert escape artist
liberating all my fellow prisoners.

We claw our way under the fences
of another reality.
We run under the stars
after midnight of this deep winter.

This outcast will step forward
to the front of the line,
where life is too short,
present flowers to the captors
and demand a naked embrace.