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Integrity

by June Labyzon


My inner queen is out of sorts living on the far east side,
exchanging the green for sidewalk Sundays.
The words foam in my mouth.
Choking with a full mouth fails a poem.
Indistinct chatter is the stuff of poetry.
I hand my dreams over to places,
weathered by the shamans;
numerous little legs running about at top speed.
The pace of milk, blood and meat
rests in white porcelain cups
painted with red and yellow flowers.
The brassy fanfare of a sky of spitting rain
is the festive overture to the short story
that is my life.

11/19/2012

Posted on 11/20/2012
Copyright © 2021 June Labyzon

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/29/14 at 05:27 PM

I love the idea of ---the pace of milk, blood and milk resting in white porcelain cups.

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