Poison Arrows


Every piece of fruit is different than every other piece of fruit
that has ever been in the world. Doesn’t that make your head hurt?

I eat ibuprofen every morning so the inside of my head
doesn’t feel like staring at hotel wallpaper.

Grey & then pink & then grey & then pink.
A man spitting out a huge quantity of mouthwash next to his car

as I stand there, looking confused. I pull loose strands caught in my hair,
make thick little balls & drop them as I walk.

If they ever want to find me, they can find me.
All my soft bullets of DNA.

Categories: Editor, Poetry
Bookmark the permalink.

Recent Comments:

Add Comment Register

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>