Image by Tamyka Bell; black colour over original text by Marco Smith.

Lego Part

after Marco Smith

Tumbling through the snow day,
turning out breath: fall ironically
behind the natural rhythm, frigid as
snow from the trauma of fall,
enough for most people, but not
the angel kind of guy.


This poem is part of The Evidence Room, a found poetry collaboration on Chalkboard. I found this poem in: