38 untitled words II

Tomorrow’s world will what it wills;
that it can bend to me,
or can’t,
or my will, to it.
As long as this eases, ask who will keep score
of who lowered who’s shackles first
and who for?

38 untitled words

Perhaps, this time, the words will come.
Not those words, but those words, the right words, for him.
And in hearing, he’ll listen; and in listening, he’ll see
the ‘tear here’ lines, ‘fold here’ marks, dot-dashed over me.