10/25/17

For some reason, the year in review
sliced into itself, spilling
multi-colored entrails across pristine pages
we’d intentionally left blank.
As all the gore and viscera sank
into the too-fine fibers, creating
gruesome Rorschach patterns
which sought to snare the whole of history
in ambiguities, I paused, pondering
more delicate things. The stench
of autumn rain stuck to my nostrils
like a nail to a post, and I
wasn’t in such a hurry to make sense
of this kind of atrocity.
I wasn’t in such a hurry
for anything, really. And slowly,
everything kind of bled out. All of us
were swallowed up by that hideous surge,
struggling to keep our heads above the surface
and partake in that air we once called “free.”

-r. miller

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