Tuesday, November 28, 2017

unspoked

Your mind
is so far up

to no good, that you
can't even vouch
for your mouth.

It's been misunderstood.

Like a card, thrust sharp
between spokes, supposed
to add charm or an aerodynamic
flow, or some kind

of sound effect. Whatever it was,

the result
was wreck.

You are hardly fit now
to say what you meant,

with your knees and palm heels,
and one whole

side
of your fresh, raw face

alive and stinging with red

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