Sonnet #55

I imagine brains are malleable things that grow

Into whatever shape we make of them, like muscles
twist and swell if exercised, and hearts clear through
or clench, depending on how we live. We wrestle
in knots where what we do is who we are
Eventually; what we feel is the way we know.
A thousand years from now, the deer will stare
into the television screens. They took our town
The sturdy doors, the walls and fences warped
Their hooves and backs into a bent up shape
They breed to barricades, training fawns, and sharp
The preening antlers rise above the frame of ape
The boundaries we build ourselves will hold
Any brain to come behind to share our mold
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