Thief.
(a contemplation of Ephesians 4:28)

Thievery is a shape,
not one that pulls the eye
or draws the longing.
It was said into being.

Words, instruments,
fashioned it, edge by edge.
It learned to refuse the chisel,
the stone that would smooth it.

Before it was formed, it was
something to be molded—
"not enough,"
"not enough,"
syllables repeated, stroke by stroke.

It kept the phrase and used it,
set it in another mouth,

and a voice in the room went quiet.