If I had mind
to question it, might wind up
witness to sadistic slavery
in the family.
If I had strength
to challenge it, might settle on
building creatures of hard
stigmatized living.
If I had sense
to peek into it, might land upon
the collapse of delivery
daily our bottled ink.
If I had yearning
to fathom it, might strike a
detail some philosopher’s
romantic sensation.
If I had carriage
to face it, might just jump
join the chorus singing
out your vale tears aloud.
If I had time
to pen it, might arrive
poem at hand calling on
other quantities I do have.