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memories of 4.27

by Devon E Mattys

My muscles tense
and flex,
grow tired,
and fade.
Someone licks their fingers,
twists ta mamelon,
and puts it in a candle’s flame.
You wince, you wimp. I grin.
I aim a pistol aimed at air
(cock it lock it kick it lick it)
breathe the fragrance
(skin been bared?)
then rise unscathed,
some minor prophet’s feet to bathe.

The children
skip stones
across the yard.
With the recess and the puddles,
they’re getting fairly far.

I, the cat,
just stretch and yawn;
another restless day is gone.
My muscles tense
and flex
and fail.
She sings a note,
I stir...
in seven years,
we’ll two set sail,
never to return.

04/30/2002

Posted on 04/30/2002
Copyright © 2024 Devon E Mattys

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