We Bite Back

Surely we are slightly,
just as sure as they are sturdy,
and the surplus air we breathe
has the flavor of contrition.
The ache, a bungled mission,
leave their due impressions.
Impersonal ads we keep
our distance from suddenly
are seen to flurry, and
in slurred impersonations,
we articulate a blank.
Front to back the spank
of mistrust reddens, tenderizes.
Front to back the night hum mesmerizes.
All a threat, we bite back
at the stuff we’ve spawned from,
and I can’t imagine any other way
for this to end.

-r. miller

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