Dismiss Whatever Insults Your Soul
Out there is a
childhood country,
bleached faces
peering in
with coals for
eyes.
— Stanley Kunitz
Cursed & ill-cast
iso-booth world —
yes, improvement’s
a hug away,
watermelon spills
from fork to floor,
outsider lured to
what feels like death
met cleanly, body
crimped upon a bike
in painful weather
like a bad witch
with a cursèd baby,
volcanoes & fairies
paid not to look,
a pink house in
a seaside climate
necklaced in loss
formed with a licking
like spider webs,
ladybug bites
narcissists give
& receive — pick up
the twig & chew it.
No comments:
Post a Comment