And enter into my body

Do you believe there is some place that will make the soul
less thirsty? […] Be strong then, and enter into your own body;
There you have a solid place for your feet.
Kabir

It takes a certain strength
to enter into my body

To enter into the cave of my
ancient history, bloody handprints
decorating the walls

To enter into
the electrical storm raging
between nerves and neocortex,
where fight and flight are
Rock’em Sock’em robots who
cannot leave the ring, where I
may knock your block off then
retreat, neither action fully under
my control

It takes a reckless fortitude
to come home to a house
of sagging plaster hanging
from creaking joists settling
into a slope with no record
of termite inspections and taxes
overdue

Will you enter into if you must
learn spelunking? Will you enter
into if I cannot promise the survival
center of my brain stem will learn
to live civilized? Will you come home
to my bed in the room with no heat
and only one outlet?

Will you enter into my body,
into the animal core of me
through the door made for your key?

Just file it a bit on the end
and turn hard to the left, twice