Day 1202

…Poetry as exercise

I have stood alone

Enough to know

How little company counts

I have spoken loudly

Enough to cherish

When silence overtakes me

I have woken sore

Dry throat hauntings

Of confident slurs and

declarative lies

Enough to relish in

Sobriety

At least for a time

My fingers betray me

I have wrapped round

Too many soft wastes

They have not been made aware

Of the merits of labour

And me?

I lost my dictionary

The same time

My waist began to bloom…

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