Thursday, November 11, 2010

September, Late Afternoon

September, Late Afternoon

Oh, how I hate you
hanging as you do
right in front of me

Now, every step
is another one closer
to murder

If only
you weren’t attached
to those stringy,
green umbilical cords

Maybe then
I’d be able
to head back
into the house,
sit down at the table,
slice straight through
without hesitation,
and eat you
in peace
for once.

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Creative Writing the Dharma by nathan thompson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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