On My Birthday
Transfixed upon a lucite sunray
the iron blood of longshoremen
washed beneath the whisperings of the bay
a pupil canvas pierced through
by the scalpel of elephantine deceit
vision yellowed in the flowering of a lost identity
the young man swallows deeply and mourns
the gist of his first twenty-nine years.
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2011
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