Written by Thomas Cannon
The spray pattern of your concerns
coats everything I know
with a wet grit
I inhale its particulates
tightening my chest.
It settles into the low-lying
crevasses of my essence
Rises in the throat
of warm mornings
fogging low-lying areas
where my heart hides
slowly subsiding
into the pitch
I guess I’m asking you
to tear away my scars
with your teeth
until there is something red and raw
and you taste the iron in my blood
with your tongue
I don’t want to poison you.
But I might, as I ask
that you dissolve my hurts
Inside you.
Text © Thomas Cannon
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Absolutely STELLER poem. You had me on the edge of my seat at every word. Your word choice and imagery is one-of-a-kind. I am in awe of you, fellow poet.
With a smile,
Heather