differential
am I different from you? from me?
Published in
Nov 20, 2020
this cold puts pressure on my cracks
I pull frigid hands up into my sweater
but the ears, they’re on their own
fractured conchoidally
cold words rattle down the canal
maybe slip through the fissures
another me would panic
try frantically to plug up holes
stop meaning from escape
but I apprehend that one; we
have to work as a team now, I say
my permutations queue
we’re a soup line these days
phrases like old coins pocket-slip
between ladle and line
on the bare hard sidewalk
one of me smiles in passing
one of you looks askance
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