Obsidian
Someone is going to see your heart line
My life is pretentious — like an open
earring that waits on the back of a toilet,
an empty red pen that once wrote out titles,
that once wrote out exceptions.
The pens do not remember my mistakes.
I’m forgettable, like the mid-air collision
of two honeybees trying to find the nest.
Even a quantum wave waltz is uncertain
— blatantly holographic. I wish to be
half as reflective as the base layer
of a white onion. Stop holding your hand
out to me. I’ll slap it like a dog bite.
Someone is going to see your heart line
and all the life you were promised.
©️ Trapper Markelz 2021
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