like a cast held
hostage to another’s fracture
of mind, settled in my place,
a vague inclination
that it’s not mine.
What should I say father, do I own it? Never! “come what may!” I yell with a wrinkled fist,
like a tired old man my soul wrinkles through whistly teeth, white and yellow.
and shuts, waiting for the winter Re- peat: “come what may," but even
to come like it always does. my inflection is weak,with stress
Put on my wool sweater on the “what” rather than the
and socks, and make “come” or the “may”—
tea to pass the day how ironically my
without a sec- fears present
ond thou- themsel-
ght. ves.
(fol) (sel)
This terrible weight of missing something anything
it just keeps sinking and reminding me something’s
missing anything and everything is shouting and
stretching their faces to mock me and jest
in daily places my eyes blink to hide
me but even in that action my
insanity is circling and sp-
inning around me like
a terrible aweful
smiling mock-
ery of my
own mis-
guided
smiles
as
lies
thro-
ugh
my
teeth.
…And I Just Sit Here Smiling.
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