Friendly Fire

I’ve given this poem a secret breath

between and behind the lines of enemies

Crisp and autumn

Crass and autonomous

There was hunger in our very lungs

 

Slithering into aching akimbo arms

we swallowed each other whole, like eggs

 

Easter has never been a good month for us

 

Eternity dripped into misplaced scars

Your teeth are still there, lodged

beside the finest set of flannel lies

A case of mistaken fidelity

 

I’ve always wondered who the hell you were

 

Bustling memories, bigger than a bread box

Scores of questions bare once shrouded fangs

 

Betrayal is a language of love

spoken by dragons and hares alike

Mishaps with limbs

Misshapen, but limber

Our pulmonary poetry fails to protect

 

You can also read this poem here

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