Thursday, November 20

The Din

Waiting in the kitchen
For the thing
That you bring
Can’t imagine darker fiction
Than the
Frantic string
Where the dust-collecting
On filthy wings
Must indulge whatever lives
In spite of

I suspect that you might notice
Tender skin
Stretching thin
Here, let’s play both host and hostess
To our
Weirdest whims
Watch the windows, we grow
Curious, it
Draws all in
Heat and rushing, faces flushing
Drowning out
The din

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