Tongue laps breath
behind constricted throat
rough wind blows
an unlit match
head bowed
hiding behind walls
like a cowardly soldier
pee trickling down pants’ legs
.
a bindhi cow rises
tramples walls of death
into burnt ashes and hamburgers
cooled ash settles
my throat, a present,
voice, my gift
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Brilliant the way the poem begins in an experience, the image pulls you in, and then spits you out back at the experience where it all began.
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