Thursday, January 7, 2016


Scallops, ham, mayonnaise, pita,
you think of scalloping the ham,
making it a thing.

All the good in there, sifted out,
sinks into the good foot.

The other foot; the heel, the arch, the nail bed,
rages through the night,
rattles as you nod,
pain pinpricking along to all the horror your father never told.

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