Abora

airlocks

10/16/19 219AM

 

i live in a series of airlocks

where i can scream quietly

each one less furnished than the next

 

a beige junker, strewn with trash

ashes from dash to bumper

i scream so loud

the car blows holes in the exhaust

and it just gets louder

 

a windy monolith, tranquil in the rain

stains on my chest and my heart skips

at strangers who walk like ghosts

 

a stuffy rat’s nest, imperious art

framed funeral carts, hanging meat for rotting

deep roiling a hopeless debate

 

each door opens with a groan

and closes with a scream



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