We Are the Tape
and don’t have to rest fetal curl all our lives,
snuggled to selves. Let’s peel the sign
off your back, away from yourself.
If you slowly groan we can hurry, tear
fast your unroll: a clear symphonic cello bow pull!
We stroke your back like a purring animal
stuck to the sofa, pressing down to join separate
entities, the text on the page torn,
now remarried with your blessing.
A community of ideas held together.
But, really, you’re strongest when stuck
to yourself. If we really want the bottom of the box
to hold, I’ll leave it to you, layered.
It’ll take a blade, or at least a key, to break us.
|Copyright © 1999 – 2020 Juked|