glides almost too easily through me,
some flap of me is freed: I am severed
trembling toward the vehicle I mean
from the muscled, sap-damp branches
a part of any part of every particle
by the white gloves of metonymy,
that doesn’t heal a bit too much.
-- Malachi Black [originally in Poetry]
this text was amazing I loved it so much!
Posted by: z | November 16, 2020 at 02:38 PM