The table shoulders the bottle
all day for several days.
Its sense of duty nails the way:
it is fleshed to last for a century – at least.
And I reach for the bottle, topple it,
press my hands on the table,
plummet my head amid my chest,
the bend of my spine solves a Conchoid of de Sluze,
my shoulders desire to shift the onus of my head
upon the table I cleaned and cleaned
with all my marrow of OCD.
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)