• Tricia D. Wagner

Set the Night Singing #2.27

Updated: Oct 14


Acknowledge me

from marrow's core

– resounds the plea –

then laud me more!

The ego head

seeks rains of praise,

on glory, red,

its trim teeth graze.

With hungry eyes,

tear wet and fixed,

the ego lies

for little kicks.

But street cred, fame,

these are not wings –

a coveted name –

– they're paper things.

The raging id

shakes fist to sky

when others won't

reflect the lie

that it has weaved

to turn their gaze

on claims believed,

on conjured craze.

What matters

at the end of day,

what flatters

not, but hunger sates?

The words improved

by day, by day;

the belly soothed

the workbench way.


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