Today’s General Tone

Shifting cuts against
The plastic fury. A brownie sunk
In the grocery bag: The eye of the cyclops
At the mouth of its cave.
“Just a few more pounds
Instead of taking that walk,”
An inflammatory echo from the past. Heavy wooden
Stakes, soft at the bottoms from hushing
Pressure into the curve of my shoulders
Exhausted into silence…into the crooked arms of Time
Until the moon rose, steam-lifted from my coffee,
And my hands, itching for an experience,
Swaddled it’s pock marked face
Into my arms until it took us home,
And I whispered, “Aren’t we both
Just perfect as we are?”








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