You never said it would be easy, battle and glory.
(Battle and gory! I say, Where is mine?)
An Ezekiel forehead like flint, emery
harder than flint, I charge the stormy gates
and batter down second heaven
like a metalsmith. With my head.
Who uses such a tool?
A man with the bronze of appearance
breathes fire into my It—intercession
for you, beloved—and burns
this tarnished striving into refined glowing.
The paint and the ink and the fist through the fight
is (there it is!) my gory glory
and every penny Worth It—
intercession for you,
beloved.