The Wall

Walls stand up
and if they can't, they are just rubble.
When a man throws you up against a wall,
in a fit of violence or romance,
you feel and hear the thud of the wall behind you.
Your head cracks back and forward in a motion.
You react in temper or in passion.

Walls are not supposed to fall down.
When you sleep at night you have faith the walls will not collapse.
A fit of quantum spasms ripping the wall, swaying and convulsing,
will not wake you from your slumber.
When you rise, you rip your coat from the wall, not tiptoey or passive,
but vulgar and fierce. 
Because you trust the wall.

Because you trust the wall,
you enter buildings, you get married, you slur when drunk and,
if given a chance, throw punches that are the opposite of the walls surrounding.
You dont curse walls. ever.
They stop you going places you shouldn't. 
They stop you rolling out of your bed.
They stop you screaming at night, "Who am i!" because you wake,
in your pyjamas in an open field.