Bog Roll

Forget eagles. I lived too long

to take to the sky. And not everybody wants to be

a cat snoring its second chance

away for 20 hours each dying

day. No, if I should need to change

let’s keep it minimal. People may tear

away at me, and what remains

will succeed each broken part.

Pushed too hard, I’ll be forced

to re-ravel my tongue

and never look the same

again. Blessed to be

unremembered, at best

a crumb lingering briefly

like a kiss between two moons.


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