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sandra wyllie
Poems
Mar 2020
It’s Too Deep
to go into on the phone. It’s
a thousand knives cutting you
in a padded room that’s sound
proof. No windows or doors. My
God! There’s no floors. They’re
dangling you on a string tied to the
ceiling fan. Then they put it on
the highest speed so that your blood
splatters. And the whole shabam
is a spin and paint like a tie-dye
t-shirt, except it ain’t.
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
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