Friday, October 11, 2013

anything approppriate

I quote my own silence in an effort to explain what folds
around these hands. there has been different skin, collapsed like a mortuary
shroud, the thinnest breath of shelter floating in the fluorescent air.

the hardening lines of earthworms
dead on the concrete borders. It was an easy lie
to follow, washed away from the dark to wither in the slackening flow.

I have been in the choir, mouth formed around pennies
others threw. breath expelled in four counts, staggering
through the false harmony.

way over the line a dead coyote waits by the interstate for
a new hunger to consume it. I leave a fortune cookie
in case there is anything appropriate 



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