Winch-willing:
Split solitaire prose poem
I feel a draft — slaps brain around — like a shredder cut-up zipbag scissors scisor zithers singing
cranium alert to all the walls collapsing rat a tat dat drats — daft — draft — did that to me — floating while boating
exploding mince — meet me at surgery — chemical umbrella imbalance — fathomless
harmless barmy — barnboy shaman — jah man come to mix me up — across the slithery bed mattress soft
wilted chilled and frozen — baked ready for the operation slip tightly into gown
why must we wear these atrocities? Oh ho hum hymn — dim lighting — gliding floor rubbing
I dream of bread — fig jam hot sauce Mexico chinchilla bland — sand between toes — glowing in morning chip
Chop bop bip — fop — flop onto the bed again this time I am cured should I look into a miracle mirror?
Ha you think you got me this time but I got away not knowing I left a book in drawers
now someone else’s — run forward — backwards — straight into a drug possession charge
Oh no they have really got me this time
The End
Mimi Bordeaux November 2023
