Thursday, July 30, 2009

I Don’t Eat Death

I do not need to eat death, death is already inside me.

A broken tide of blood washes over the stony surface of my heart.

Salt and iron dance with a sort of physical poetry,
If not awkwardly.

It is here that I find myself on the well-worn path
Of forgetfulness,
Casting about for a foothold.

Taking courage in the knowledge that in every argument I’ve ever had,
I’ve been in the wrong.

I must cast off in this little boat named
and sail it in every direction.

-michael tawd bell

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