Yessed to death

Permissive patience

In the absence of ever having had a





Does the truth finally

Choke you woke

To the reality of being

Either doormats, mice or brutish men

Who force their broken hunger

On unconscious bodies

Just because I sat there

A perch


Frozen pickerel

Paralyzed scream beneath the ice

As the hook drew blood

Under the red flag

And the chiseled hole in your story

Echoed under our feet

Countless jars of bitter juice

Are not equated with unconditional love

And yet the take, take, take

Was merely a reflex

To give, give, give

The illusion

That everything was fine


2 thoughts on “Fawn

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