Why do I creak the way I do
when the last opulent fires of morning
recede into a violet veil?
And what exactly is it leaking
from the corners of my mouth?
The new poesie perhaps?
But we’ll save that for later…
My bones are filled with hard water,
and stupid me without the terminology
to describe the way that feels.
Certainly, some shady dealings
are happening that would give me pause,
give me good reason to don a permanent cringe.
At least I can binge the latest headlines
at my leisure. Lethargy in bundles
pins me to my gruesome bed.
All the talking heads of state
are mating discourse with hysterics
to hilarious effect. Inspect me
for lumps, why don’t you?
It isn’t like I’ll be here any given day.
And say, what’s up with them politics?

-r. miller

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