A pinwheel smile
and a laugh like lidocaine
she licks her lips,
honeycomb on serrated tongue

this thing is made of plastic
and you are flesh and light
washing hands of unbelongings
merging with a comfortable cough

a butterfly path
and I’ve lived so long
without wings
so long in boundaries defined

past transgressions
still sting violent
a shadow is a spade
choking on air of ego

she is a triple number
saving me angelic
from dropping off
in recurring dream

and I am simultaneously
gaining and losing potential


One thought on “Potent

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