Above the Larks
He, that languishing contortion of trepidation, lies above the larks.
A down-spiraling constriction, spooled of self-dilapidation.
Twitching from time to time,
Sinew grabbing —
Flesh throbbing —
He jumps at himself, raising an outstretched palm.
He pleads in anguish: “rest, demented.”
The wouldbe escapist reconvolutes, silencing his susurrus tears
—Only to glide upon uncertainty.
(2014)
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