Nausea

Stomachaches stun the metropole.
Politicking and grumbling
all the way to the accident marsh.
And the steel wool
they pull out of the brain
is just delighting in detritus.

We give mush to the groomsmen in paper hats,
travelling along the cables
in the afternoon sweet.
Your heartbeat and my flushed interior.
Crab festoons. The moniker.
He went feeding.

-r. miller

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