"squaline" poems
There’s a strange intensity behind
those eyes, it’s unnerving,
deadpan. Especially squaline.
Yet there’s no glass separating us and
we’ve both paid our fees, I’ve come to the exhibit
to look at the fish but the shark's staring right back at
me.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC