On Barely Being

None of your strategies matter,
Close to your vanishing—it’s not

That they couldn’t possibly work.
Just that there’s no time to test them,

And what are they strategies for,
Really, anymore? Not long life.

This was always the thing about
Hospitals, jails, classrooms, childhood

In general—the more you were
Restricted, the freer you were

In some way difficult to say.
Not free from care and emotion

But from the trap of causation,
Perhaps. Those who can, feel they must.

Those who can’t may lecture the dust
On being less industrious.