Despite the suits,
the wheels or fancy shoes,
the polish
of your specialized gesticulations,
exorbitant dresses or customized ornamentation,
despite
the fetishized finesse
to glaze evenly each unsophisticated edge,
it’s apparent
how much we remain animals,
from how
we act when startled
or smell in a while, if left alone and dead.
Rummages Across the Dead Land 
Very powerful and honest, and I’m going to confess I do like the rhythmic flow of sounds you’ve achieved as well. (I am sometimes reticent mention that type of thing, although in fact, it enhances the meaning.)
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Thank you for reading again Steve. I usually purposely avoid adding rhythm and rhyme in poetry, as language feels freer to me without them — just personal preference. But in this little piece, a little rhythm just seemed to fit in, and find its own place.
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