Poem #13

Redistribution

Your head is a Lazy Susan
spinning busy, out of control
like the wheels of time grinding
you down. Are you feeling
a pinch of panic at the bottom
of your soul? Did you decide
what to do about those barren
salt wells that are sunken
into your face? If I promised
that you’d be fine, would you
blink away those ellipses
that linger on your lashes?
Would you find a way to rest
your lazy head and learn how
to build a little brick house
to cohabitate with your thoughts?

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