Shocked by the light
My lungs
Fold over themselves
For a lick of air -
Glistening slugs
Lapped together
In a cage
We have some business
Down on the line
Says the man with a backwards smile
You, old son, took
The wrong out
My weakness is my mouth
An opening and closing
Toad fish vessel
From which no sound
Can come
Not even a last squeak
To correct his sentence,
To say "turn"
Before unrolling my arms
And dropping my head
Theatrically to the road
No comments:
Post a Comment