How
does a gut
know
the difference
Between: a dread, or a disquiet, an unease—
it
follows me: from the breakfasttableto
mydressertomycartomyjobtomylunch
tothesuppertabletothelaundrytomybed
tomydreamtomysoul—is
there such a thing?
And: an expectation, or a calm, untroubled—
it
follows me: from the breakfasttableto
mydressertomycartomyjobtomylunch
tothesuppertabletothelaundrytomybed
tomydreamtomysoul—is
there such a thing?
That
comet explodes at the same bizarre
rate
with the same intensity and
meanders
and mazes itself through
the
width of my capillaries
and
the chutes of my veins
bleeding
itself out of my
yielding
pores.
That
kind of rage and celebration
are
troublesome dance partners
dancing
a crooked two-step
with
no music.
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