If I am whiplash and I am a noun,
then I am injury, and that can’t be right.

But I could be a verb. Am I an action—
a sudden movement causing a turn about?

Could I damage evil, turning it to good?
I’d like to be swift and prompt!

Let my life be pivots and snaps,
that my dance would make a growing wind.

Let the air we each inhale,
exhale, form a joint movement,

that all violence would come to an end,
that we could explore all else irony

can be for—beyond turning
injustices on their head.

Let us work and twirl until we have
tilled this world an eden.

first published by The Reprise