POETRY WIVES

waiters and presidents
bartenders and poetry-wives
this pitiful boring life
was self-appointed without
the gavel’s gravel of
broken words

the water’s fire dozes
off to become forgotten dust
of aurora borealis’ gaze
the payment of perforated lies
cuts deeper than the blade’s
edge of forty days and nights
as my poems begin to really hurt
i feel so bare so hard to cry
having known that unknowing is
like hating but loving my ex-wives
(who i fought for love before)
so waiters and presidents
bartenders and poetry-wives
this pitiful boring life
was self-appointed without
the gavel’s gravel of
broken words

:: 01.10.2022 ::