May 21
I am standing with
five rolled-up pages
of poetry in my
hand, ready to lunge
forward and smash it
into oblivion, when
she says, Don’t ****
that fly. Can’t you
see it’s praying?
five rolled-up pages
of poetry in my
hand, ready to lunge
forward and smash it
into oblivion, when
she says, Don’t ****
that fly. Can’t you
see it’s praying?
