God the tears
wrenching themselves
from me
the past
dying
with all of its
appurtinances

wire pulled from
the gelatinous
stuff of my life
and it lets go
of form

see me nowwww...

grasp nothing
to your breast
while it runs
through your fingers
into your shoes
to squish
with every
step

a smear of time
with dry cereal
a schmear of leftovers
in a brown
bag
of soggy right now

this permanent
pregnancy of doubt
a blade
turning the soil
of our hearts
borning lines
burning lines



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis