I prefer my wild quite tame

and have no one to blame

that this is so

except my I

who carries shame across spacetime

to incarnate me with guilt.

 

The “I” We hoped to be

was as wild as yeast

still free of human domesticity

and with this dream of noble savage gone

I’m left with guilt

for giving up on youth’s hoped for “I,”

a part of We

immersed in wild diastatic

undomesticated freedom flight

from shame

toward becoming who I am

as EcoWe.

 

I prefer my tame quite wildly

shy of guilt

to find such goodness

in my speciated crazy quilt.