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by Indigo Tempesta

their menacing is my bald flesh which
out of the shower colors rashly and is all

their teeth are all my fingernails
that graze me til gnawing deadens
whatever sense such bone and stuff should have

exactitude is followed quickly on by illiteracy
in which endgame is no clean beheading
but mire, and the four horsemen who careen

to say more:
what love i fashion i carry with me
as a new mother or passionate inventor
and they are all the harshest clamorers
along the cart-route, with stone
and festering fruit


Posted on 03/03/2007
Copyright © 2018 Indigo Tempesta

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Meghan Helmich on 08/08/08 at 07:49 PM

beautiful internal rhyme. somehow, you manage to use exaulted language and not lose the reader. great poem!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/09/17 at 04:45 PM

Fascinating piece read a little differently if I carry on from stanza to stanza or pause between each. Stark images yet controlled, despair yet clarity. Loved the reference to the cart-route, stones and festering fruit - gives a unique time frame or more visceral response. Really enjoyed the language in general. Congrats on POTD!

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