My Life Is a Sink
My life is a sink
Yours is the toilet
We both wash we both throw away
Nothing is rejected
You are porcelain
And your skin is hard
As hard as my eyes
Which are the faucet
And metal like the drain
Which is my mouth
Absorbing everything,
Not much comes out.
Your showerhead is broken.
Your face is flat.
Today is a sodamachine.
Venue here and venue
Across the street
I’m dead.
You’re sleepy,
Tired in the head
Of remorseless shadow
And undercut
Under steeples
Of broken churches
Ring bell put me to sleep
Undercut
Under blade in a tuft of grass
Copyright © Brooke Wolfe | Year Posted 2007
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