Thursday, January 10, 2019

BAD BREATH

If I wasn't so tired and quiet
and conspicuous-
feeling—all goose pimples
and rumpled underwear,

I might stand and shout
out the chilly bay window—
take it all back!
at the exacting light,


which, with its usual knife-
edged insensitivity,
is presently quizzing
all the neighboring


brick walls, needling
the street beneath, and
splitting the precious hairs of these
blunt stone hours


into cheap and hurried-
feeling moments—like this, each
one a little too sharp for my
taste in the morning.

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