from bed, battle drums

stranded somewhere between east and west lines that divide a world only spinning for our comfort

every night she positions herself in a bed designed for two where the fate of another shrew is tamed and told where to whistle contrary tunes that pound through puckered lips parading past arm powered ships setting sail to island fantasies waiting in polluted oceans for us to conquer, or douse in gasoline and set fire

leaving constant reminders of human desires to contemplate death while passing through moon phases predicting the flow of life-stopping blood

bustling between scars left by the constant consideration that somewhere, something, somehow is better than the ticking clock we throw back and forth now bowing to unrequited lovers leaving for another zone to practice their polite panting exercises

let’s stop with the please and thank you’s

and understand

head nods and need are enough

stranded implies i can’t leave

there’s a way out

you

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