THREE POEMS
Mar 01, 2019
2 minutes
SARA MICHAS-MARTIN
Middle Life
When I got upa dead beetle where my back had beennot a tick, should I be gladmy blood untouchedthe body’s sliding boardI don’t understandmy tongue feeling large for my moutha loose bone floatingreceiving impactthis being subtle and not so subtlethis evolvingmy restless squirrelsmy own exposed waitingfor what?
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