Burnt Verse: Patchwork
A glowering patchwork of a man
Chin like the Yucatan
Edges his oak-soaked way toward me
Imitating nightmares
Bitter cedar emanating from him
In cringing solvent snares
On his lips is a fusion of shame
In cauterising flame
Falling porcelain leaves surround us
Autumn exudes the past
The fugue of memory no chasm
Our speech returns at last
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