I cut my teeth

to navigate

 

the currents

barely

narrowly

I cut my teeth

on the flesh

of

administrative

processes

 

I

seek to

gain what

I might

attain

 

A passport

to be in

the running

 

Milk teeth

are precious

 

yet

they must

go

 

firsts become

seconds

become lasts

 

fast

the fury

of the Fraser

 

sharper

than any

razor

 

In order

to run with

the horses

 

you learn

their stride

 

and so

I entrust

my ride

 

with a certain

strained pride

 

to the Master

sandblaster