Big Tent Gong Day 2 – from rob mclennan’s wild horses, “eleven lines of itchy sorrow”
fate of my right hand
seems utterly at a disconnect
with the rest of me
the only part
not burned
in the
fire
i sniff at its freshness
suspicious of its
mundane
skin-smell
when all
the rest
of me
is ash
The shape of this is really interesting.
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