I am

a strip of burnt pink flesh
a flaccid water sack
on a rain washed green isle

a lonely desert jackal
hunting for sanctuary;
a mound of golden sand
to live and make a stand
and sing my mating song

gaudy threads of unfinished-
stories, stitched in a hinged mouth

teeth full of half chewed timber rind
and a brain twisted by algebra

narrator of history
in grey words of poetry

a frayed rope wrapped and woven
into entwined orobus
birth and death in search of life.

-dave kavanagh


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