Cal

By Evan Chapin

Cal met me under my bridge 
stern faced triangle faced 
and aired many complaints 
in ten words “it is a new calamity 
every day with this man” and 
triangle flared without any stern 
because we yearned to crawl out 
from under the cannibalizing bridge 
and be lovers of destiny thrusting 
it to the system and the bridge and  
the man with the calamities because 
when he crucifies me on his triangle 
and breaks my chest open I am  
invincible and “now that it rains 
purple sleet in your garden” he 
shatters a stake in my ankle and 
“knows the moonshine in your  
belly makes you the free man, 
Cal the calamity.”