Immaterial

A congestion takes
time to clear
away stale ideas. Would it 

really be the end
of the world to be 

a new
soul. With slow
moving ovals 

to louse
up patterns without.
I was born 

funny
looking, looking
to make my way 

with a simple trick—
a mouth shaped 

downward to laugh,
upward to sob, and nothing 

in between. Who knows
if that part
really matters.