The unbearable
force of a wrong

incoherent and
rigid,

you futile in a
universe holding this.

Kicking, slaps, battling –
each emptier against

the injustice;
the power of it.

You well up
but do not quite dare

cry, holding on
from behind the blood.

Once tall
– six three –

the red burst makes
you inches shorter.

(cut-up: Rabbit, Run – John Updike)