subtext

• •

Edges

I am my horizon.

I cannot see beyond

the emptiness between

this center and the edge.

My bones ache;

my toes are numb.

I weigh my troubles

like raw meat,

balanced against friends’

couched complaints.

These mundane cliches

clot us together,

like blood seals

an angry wound.

(June 3, 2023)