Breastbeat
Normally shy
conciliatory even when right
the woman is bird her wings
take the air in slow slices
burns rubber into wine
swaps soft hands for hard graft
it’s an easy trade
distortion turns my head
I’d tell you more but
I don’t know what this means
what it is to mean
a small break in the pattern
you might miss, a diaspora
marching along time’s rough edge
concurrent media streams
a distraction from all those lives, all moving
and when you strip away the clever
twist of words nothing makes any sense
except compassion
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