Nov 4
I have a box of tools,
useless,
and debris.
Pistol-pin,
rifle-lock,
shorn and ****** knees.
I lay here only
motionless
in a flood.
Turn me over,
face to Sun,
mercurial soul of blood.
useless,
and debris.
Pistol-pin,
rifle-lock,
shorn and ****** knees.
I lay here only
motionless
in a flood.
Turn me over,
face to Sun,
mercurial soul of blood.
(Beating tired bones)
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