Style is Nothing Without the Onlooker

by davidchrzanowskipoetry

To be published by Forward Poetry 2015/16.

In an evening glove
dazzled to mourning
always pretending as
the afterburn swallows bicycles
ears perked, woodlice on floorboards
creak, my mess streaks
excitement shut out
placing chaos on shelves
organised drama
maze prints surround
searching, bones spun
to make milk, to make
me, make doves
make peace
never recover

under this temporary
blanket.

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