Poem #13

Redistribution

Your head is a Lazy Susan spinning busy, out of control like the wheels of time grinding you down. Are you feeling a pinch of panic at the bottom of your soul? Did you decide what to do about those barren salt wells that are sunken into your face? If I promised that you’d be fine, would you blink away those ellipses that linger on your lashes? Would you find a way to rest your lazy head and learn how to build a little brick house to cohabitate with your thoughts?

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