Wednesday, June 23, 2021

Poem: Age




wrinkles slither

over the desert of my skin.

so many beached eels

on a saggy road,

twitching in packs,

a seine no memory can evade,

not even a breath.


maybe i’ll try verbal cobwebs,

the art of weaving

creased old skin.

maybe i’ll hunker down,

crab-gripping pens

to copy the mayhem

on my neck.


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