freedom is a cage of
smudged windows
or it is the knot of fervent caterpillars
sliding through my intestines
soon
spilling out onto the floor,
washed in symbol, incubated;
destroying their cotton packages,
when the day is warm and facing them
tearing through the tether,
unbridled,
unimpeded exodus,
transforming into grand ideas
and taking off
like a storm.