The Thing About Oil Spills II
written by: Godfrey Holy
My neck no longer bears
your cinderblocks
I sit on them at the bottom of
your forlorn lake
I like the way your reflection floats
oil and water a struggled blend
dance upon dance tired and tried
The way you ebb into oblivion,
the way you hold on to opinions
the way you loom large,
like a giant perilous bubble
bloated begging puncture
From this depth, I will keep
your ego well inflated,
your rituals of ignorance
I will wear as amulets
against the toxins in
my pillow.
READ THE PREQUEL HERE
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