Daily Archives: March 10, 2017

Those Teeth

Those teeth:
pearl white, 
perfected.

Straight, sharp, 
and no mistake: 
they can cut.

It’s the color
(or lack of one)
that makes them

so scary. Nothing
but snow and 
that tunnel entered

upon dying 
should be that color
(or lack of one). If you

bite me, you unnatural
blinders, you mirrors
that do not reflect; if you

take any piece of me —
proud walk, working hands,
core muscles, wide view — 

I assure you
that you shall choke
and in death you will not

remain unstained.


Ground And Pound

is working.

I haven’t been upright
in months. I feel
only head shots and body blows.

No blood in my liver, my limbs
cold and stiff with coagulate,
certainly none to be spared for anyone else. 

Opening my eyes
through the spray of little cuts
on my face is too hard.

Each one’s a distraction
I can’t manage to disregard
while trying to get up or at least

trying to try for that.
I’m not much to look at either,
and forget being loved; no one loves

a slab of meat, soft marble chunk of 
red and white, shaking tub
of bad decisions lying puddled on the mat.

Ground and pound it is for a wrap:
take it, fake it, don’t cave, don’t tap.
But it’s working. No denial here. Working

like a charm. No knockout blow
in this lifetime. From outside
it may look like I’m sleeping,

but from ringside you can’t know how
the roaring of my heart at my failure
keeps me awake for now.