Sunday, December 29, 2013

Collections: Multiverse


Fight or Flight

Open both eyes. Parse
the problem. Ignore lungs
that flap, guts that slither
and knot. Focus.

The tongue, stiff as road-kill,
plays chicken with language
swerving around expletives
and grunts. The roar of blood
leaves ears deaf and muscles
shaking, knees aquiver.

It also lets the heart believe
it can leap through the throat
to freedom, though it’s often
wedged in the mouth instead,
carried for miles in hinged jaws  
only to be spit out at a pair
of anonymous feet, still flexing,
saturated red.


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