Bottom
The smallest trench of all, I am digging it around my ears, my hands, my teeth.
Looping trenches like garlands like beads around my throat
tight.
When the bottom fell out it fell fast.
When I landed I will land hard.
But I am falling for a while, a short while.
There are all sorts of measurements gliding around the trenches trying to get out
Competing for attention. My attention but all I feel is air
Abrasive on my cheeks, my eyes so they burn and tear
apart.
1 comment:
I like your poem but I am a simple law enforcement agent of local government so I do about as well interpreting this poem as I do investigations of crimes that are obviously more complex and important than I think.
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