Of Poem and Meaning, Harvey J. Baine


Fatigue 2, 36X48, John Brosio

 

Of Poem and Meaning

Think also of the things
they say and the names.
It could tell you nothing.
The pear I had for breakfast
is gone but I remember it.
Sticky chin, flesh cold.
Smooth, the echoes of sucking
against tile walls, floors.
I feel with my tongue
shreds of thin skin,
imagined to be green,
stuck in my teeth.

______________
Harvey J. Baine

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