Kerri Shying R # 452 - if tension had a bourse how rich hell

here is my resting state  here is me    folding

one hand  across the other    I am strangling

the wrist   it is a thin bird’s neck   try to

drop the shoulders   from up around

these ears  wringing out the rubber

if tension had a bourse   how rich hell

I’d out-Trump the Donald with all this   pulling

tight   negotiating with my own breaths   to

enter   to leave the gates   my own Alcatraz

I can see the shoreline  from here    I imagine

the long cold swim    me sinking like a stone