by Suzán Jiván, Mom
& Mom-Mom Suzán
Closer to its quarry
mainly carrying cachets
of lost patience
ostensibly focusing
on low profiles
for the first time
while breathing life
as limits derived
by straining rightly
being hired
like a tight knee-high
across time
like homemade
moonshine
still figuring out
the hows and whys
persuaded to rely
on dried corncob pipes
over the long while
as drought survivors
unfazed by fake breakups
as mistaken moderators
coming apart unbothered
by bowl-shaped parts
made up of cacophonies
of knots like unfathered
zombies struck hard
as heartless novices...
No comments:
Post a Comment