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SOMETHING ABOUT A WOUND LEARNING TO FEED

By Yago



Wasn’t it at a bus stop or something

where someone had used a white board marker

to write out a prophecy about evil

the scrawny letters

naked, huddled tight,

avoiding the bad weather.

I can’t help but think of evil as a bus –

completely harmless

a number glowing on its forehead

sighing into its stops,

everyone’s limbs are intact

and I need to get somewhere

so I’m sitting inside,

waiting.

Hunger is the best

at promising home, not in song

but in grunts you can trust.

I wrap them all up

in a napkin,

save it for later.

There is shock

 

when I look down

and the wound has grown fluffier

a habitat

where the past tracks you

down in a feline sort of way –

we all get zapped

from time to time

all make silly faces

when we fight or fun or cry

but rarely when we’re waiting.

I get home where nothing is as evil

as my ecstatic dog so I feed him.


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