In my sleep I
chew on the
laces of the gloves,
trace the eyelets
with my tongue,
memorize the leather
the way an animal will
lick a wound. Hour
after hour, while you
dream, I gnaw
and pull,
to work my fists
free.
Betrayal is bone
on bone, is
the long, vacant scream
of the dying, is
what pardons the soul
leaving these words
and this mouth
weapons.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
In my sleep I
chew on the
laces of the gloves,
trace the eyelets
with my tongue,
memorize the leather
the way an animal will
lick a wound. Hour
after hour, while you
dream, I gnaw
and pull,
to work my fists
free.
Betrayal is bone
on bone, is
the long, vacant scream
of the dying, is
what pardons the soul
leaving these words
and this mouth
weapons.
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