Too Much to Swallow, This
by John Amen

    Too Much to Swallow, This

    Darkness, falling like a gavel,
    bruising the day's limp petals.

    This is me on the verge of extinction,
    a character from a parable,
    who keeps sandpaper in his pocket,
    squeezing the exercise ball
    until everything touched
    crumbles in a death grip.

    Once home, my defeats rise like hosts to greet me,
    photos with cracked frames, brass pots collecting dust,
    atheism nipping at my heels like a starving puppy.

    I light a cigarette, my first in six weeks.






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