PESSOA

Somewhere beyond collapse
the voices of triumph
and misery run hand
in hand, back and forth
while train smoke whistles
out from both ears.

He quietly coughs up a lung
followed by the wings
of a butterfly in his strain
to brush aside the cannonball
that keeps his chest removed.

If only to crawl another inch forward–
like Pheidippides stretching to rest
just beyond the useless pall of himself.