Sonnet #55

I imagine brains are malleable things that grow

Into whatever shape we make of them, like muscles

twist and swell if exercised, and hearts clear through

or clench, depending on how we live. We wrestle

in knots where what we do is who we are

Eventually; what we feel is the way we know.

A thousand years from now, the deer will stare

into the television screens. They took our town

The sturdy doors, the walls and fences warped

Their hooves and backs into a bent up shape

They breed to barricades, training fawns, and sharp

The preening antlers rise above the frame of ape

The boundaries we build ourselves will hold

Any brain to come behind to share our mold