As I Wrinkle and Ache

A Thanksgiving poem, albeit an untraditional one. Happy Thanksgiving!!

As I Wrinkle and Ache

I’m pleased
I still imagine
the fat goblin
lurking

behind
the sticky pines,
snapping branches
with its arms,

pocked, scarred,
pacing
in the shadows,
its breath

staining
the morning cold
with heat and stench.
It swings its sword

bellowing, barking,
hoping, I haven’t
forgotten
how to play.

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2 thoughts on “As I Wrinkle and Ache

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