Poem: April 2

Untitled: The Creep

my toes are used to creeping
inching along the narrow confines of yesterday
I wish to reconfigure them
crack open phalanges and realign
stack bone and tarsal and flesh
until they form a sturdy tourniquet for my brokenness

still I must not abandon the creep
the creep keeps me focused
the creep keeps me moving forward
the creep keeps me below the line of fire

 

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