Leave your stone heart near the bank,
it’s doing you no service.
You’re a tenant under a lidless sky, owing a genetic debt
that will be paid once its cracks are rushed with water.
Burst apart chitinous insect
return to the mud you crawled from.
Out of the water you rise,
lying on the pebbled beach —
wavelets of reality waking your toes —
revved by blood beats strong and steady.
Then, with hair clung to your face,
you’ll be able to stare the sky back.
It's Aplomb 