supple
Victorian with my cask and cot
sealed
in frenzy
catching
lead filled shots
pre-natal divine
post-natal grind
skinned chemical blame
racing
to the stellar
landing
spots
the cold
storage
of time
a bottle message
tiding
vapor
humanity haunting
its amniotic sanctuaries
trapping
its cardinal
dust at dawn
every
calendar
recording, in
near
hydrocarbon rust
and
cake ash
the
party
is
backwards
birthday-ing
a coffin
to
cradle ring
bells
beyond glass
say,
may we have
another
couple of shots
we
won’t forget to
sever
clever for stuck
inside
each sentence wall
here’s
all the good parts
blended
past recognition
crane
your neck
and
wish there weren’t
so
many of us
clamoring
to be heard
above
the three
dominant
dimensions
their
curtains pulling
velvet and wool tight
into
midnight’s
frozen
cling
are
you all right
I
say, to drive
with
another couple of shots
they’re
on their way
aged
barrel rolled
like
most of us
so,
here’s a toast
to
the ghost
on
the ready
in
all of us
just
like
Marley
rattling
chains
for
Tiny Tim
EJR
©
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