broken in poetry

  • Feb. 3, 2019, 2:34 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

reality, a vinyl record spun so many times it
hiccups pops and skips, scratches in the dips
betraying the circuitous motion that it plays
endless inadvertent repetitions, back to back
giving away a game, both profound and profane
merrygoround of alternating fortune and shame
so hold onto your seat, it’s going to repeat


Loading comments...

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.