Verklempt

We’re not as calm as we may seem.
So maybe let’s careen from “we” into the warmer
sweeter cream of “you” and “me.” Pronouns
are the damnedest things. Mine are always
sprouting wings. There “you” go –

bye-bye! – and soon “you” start resembling “I.”
All the intermixing contradictory afflictions
and resolves that flick the little thoraxes,
antennae, tails and mandibles of our strained
self-involvement – up and through and under you –

and me – and us – and thee – and we –
and her – and they – and him – and them –
ah well, ahem. Clear your interrupted throat.
Let your people go. Unfurrow your verklempt
too-twisted brow. Kick us all out now.

.