louder & laboured

which part of a man is calling today?
which flavor of a boy is parading today?

a little boy who's standing so tall
a standing-tall man who's only a boy
he knows a price is paid for his joy
& only the ground will catch what will fall

what is he made of yesterday or now?
when was it said that he wasn't so much—
just some bones with lurid eyes & who knows how?

he's praying & begging to make them all pay—
for the strings that they pull on to make him this way
& he knows, oh he knows, that he won't wear his face to sunday

tomorrow, they're swearing he's less than this much,
but another stranger someone is preaching behind his tongue
& his legs are dancing & breaking & bending & such

will you do this much—
will you sell him before he's so young?

is the breathing getting louder & laboured?
is the charade ever worn out like a heart or time out-worn?
have you done with him now?
have you planted enough with his strong back to a plow?