Yolk

by March 20th, 2009 - Creative » Poetry »

I stick a match

stabbed

the middle of my eye

Squinting…
and wincing…
and winking…

I strike it
and watch it
burn down…

to the licking…
lapping…
wick…
of my self

It sputters
and splinters
and sizzles out

And without evidence
continues
something more

It Is All Connected Somehow…


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