I will not empty myself
For profit
Replace her with a brand,
Digestible,
Instead of root-bound.

I'm not afraid of helping
But of exploiting
The same eating at the table
With salt and sawdust,
Exhausted.

Not afraid of using time
But selling all the hours.
This neutron star,
This storm surge
Bottled on the back shelf.

There is nothing I can do
But fall behind
For my peace
Stitch where I can stitch
And live stubbornly as her.