5.24.19

Leaned on once too much,
disperse grave giggles
and fester without sound.
By my declarations increase
for all the shroud.

I pull this sour air into my lungs.
Ghosts grapple the rungs
of a collective sleep paralysis,
an aching climb. Rhyming suddenly
possible/passable.

Didn’t get my knot on early rise?
But for the rinse/repeat procedure
charging my shallow veins.
I was dubious. Nearby enact boldly.
Solid but coldly affecting

is this new luster encasing me
and I think to sing with the wind.
Thereby rattles and rules indiscriminate.
All of May shirks promises;
this is all we ever receive.

-r. miller

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