Saturday, July 25, 2015

Undertow Tanka Review, Issue 6, July 2015

they teased me
when I was a girl
my voice
deeper than any boy's
my chest full of thunder

a spoonful
of nuclear medicine
too late to save my brothers
not too late to heal the world

that phone call
all those years ago
I still see
a serpent writhing
between her fingers

the breath
of a chimney hangs
in the frosty air
so many questions
you left unanswered

an old friend
unable to say the words
hands me a note
tissue-thin and faded
he thinks he might be gay

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