Poem Number 23082

`

forlorn and twisted
like a bread-tie
i ache from someone
braiding my insides
layer over layer
an image
meant
to
explain (if only just) how i felt yesterday
for longer than
is fair
for
someone
who
already
knows
He won.

ipick
romans as only a poet can (randomly and with obvious divine intervention)

a few verses read and (of course) re-read for effect
and like martin luther i slipthelock openthegate and bang

today, early alarm and hell-fire stout coffee
bring me smirking and stumbling
toward endless possibilities
and praying and for enough
time
to
do
something (good).


)K