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Because Sometimes

by Shannon Adele

You are popsicle
sticks carved from perfect ash plank.
I am a yellow

black wasp sucking red
sticky sap from your shoulders
trying to teach you

my religion in
two languages. One in vain
the other, jet fuel.


we don’t care for your
sex or votes or McDonald’s
or your stock exchange

cities filled with cars
running on our sweaty skin
brown with clay and brown

our faces bearing
only Cleopatra eyes
like swords forged from glass

jaws only we are
not prize fighters we are mere
canonized mortals.


Posted on 02/15/2007
Copyright © 2020 Shannon Adele

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Angela Nuzzo on 02/15/07 at 09:01 AM

Shannon, this is great. Wonderful visuals. I like that first image of the wasp sucking at the wood. Very nice.

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