“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label scab. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scab. Show all posts
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Scab(bard)
What must be done,
the human dilemma,
in life, in love,
two hands
for beginners
two eyes
for choices...
And yet,
the serrated edge
makes its intentional cuts,
back and forth, metronomic
and chronically
applying increasing pressure
while deepening-
Well,
we all know about old wounds
and the salt cure,
yet often preferred,
the tourniquet
methodically
seems to slow things down
when placed snuggly
over our mouths.
Photo credited by: Poliphilo / CC0, 'The Knife Grinder' taken 2015 in Public Domain.
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