Don’t Think Me Like That

 

Sometime before Spring

Someone will pull you in by thinking next to you.

Their hungry rumination will tug at the flimsiest physical thing–

an eyelash, a button, a cardboard shoe.

 

Then, inching closer to fatality,

you’ll see your reflection–all your hair gone, your shirt open—

and start to swallow the eventuality

of intractable, irreversible consumption.

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This entry was posted in poetry.

One comment on “Don’t Think Me Like That

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