Mean

Unkind, average, stingy, aimed,
What a word, this English pun,
To mean the mean to be mean.

The beast’s afraid of the words,
Afraid of their betrayal,
If their pattern’s not obscured.

The beast is always social
And mortal, available
For rending by other beasts.

The boldest storytellers
And most defiant poets,
Raw as freshcut sugarcane,

Raw as underground storage
Organs, root vegetables
With dirt still clinging to them

Are afraid for what their words,
Once peeled and boiled, may reveal,
But most for what could become

Of them and their words because
Of their words, if their fellow
Beasts grow heated and disturbed.

It all goes into the pot.
Beasts with more words are softer,
Easier to boil to pulp.

The words don’t care. Don’t seem to,
Their sums distill from all beasts.
Words stay mean to mean that mean.