I am a cocoon of clay, shattered
commandment, incomplete idol.
Horses distrust me, men use me
with watchful eyes. I am the tool
that tasks itself. Masterless, the word
propels me. Inside my head, carved
in my crust, the word sustains me.
I neither eat nor sleep, neither breathe
nor speak, for I am duty
in earth and fire. If men are gods,
I am Adam. I labor and wait
to inherit and open to song.