Like a dryer undoes
a bad stitch, you
unravel what I'd rallied -
a bitch of a lesson
I won't learn.
I need some pointers
and a slap in the ass.
What's sass these days
compared to spite?
The man loitering
at the stop light? I think
it's you, until he turns.
My god, this love feels
like hate! Brass knuckles
on both hands -
like skidding into gravel
instead of grass.
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4 comments:
love the new work. making me proud. to be an acquaintance. and maybe a friend. eventually.
Strong meditative first stanza. I wasn't sure what motivated the evolution of thought in the second stanza. You reach a nice end but I have trouble relating to "What's sass..." and "My god...".
happy to see you're writing, good stuff to. I have neglected my blog for months. going to the AWP thing next month?
you owe me some shit!!! or some sort of critique
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