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Posted by on Apr 15, 2020 in Poetry | 0 comments

Sick Tiger

Sick Tiger


The tiger dives at the window of her cage
Her paws hang in the light, rough black pads.
Skeletal trees cast black bars across
Dead leaves, obsidian water rushes by embers
Of moss burning wet logs eared with fungus
And the tiger prowls and I prowl and the world prowls.
We burglarize our time today we steal from ourselves
I am looting my life for something I can kiss tonight.

Every neuron touches another, the monads
Are in touch, the feelers have encompassed us
The TV is the woods and there are people
Bowling on the lawns who never bowled before.

The tiger sneezes and her nurses reach for an anesthetic
And a swab. One of many ways to test and know
What we already knew, fleet friend, whipping free.

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