The Sharper Corners

 sideways voices simmer in surrender. we linger on the precipice of hope. wondering when we'll tumble over. 

arguing with gods and ghosts. about where the end is. and all the rules that flesh imposes. 

life is tender. raw meat and torn bread. as our hunger stiffens against its dwindling nourishment. 

the mind is all open zippers. and lingering puddles. after the storm has stolen its way out of our lives. 

we're left with our parody of choices. and the soiled maps they're drawn on.

damp and malnourished. as we search for the sun behind the clouds. 

angry and panicked. as our the fruits we've picked begin to sour.

the end moves quietly into our skin. the fulcrum under grief's lever.