mark singer Poet Free verse

somethin' thing-inflicted

Recalling days in a state 
you 
might feel after faking 

your own breath of fresh hair she fried 
from that floor dayward to 
be right 
         on the 
pointless hell prototype 

aligning with her vision 
of 
the self-confident soldiers 

singing her to the quick and stick-
y hotel where no one 
ever 
         checks out 
the plumbing unless pres-

sured to do so by the 
bladder 
         of fact 
madam at the recep-
                                 tion desk.

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