Fred Marchant

Issue #
4
February 3, 2014

trip wire

the night fell like the snow that had been falling all day
            which was unlike

the peach pit as wet and red as the cancer removed
            which was like

a tyrant tethered to his clean-shaven broken neck-o
            which was unlike

the battalion of army ants crossing over my lips
            which was like

an unfathomable overseas shortwave radio prayer
            which was unlike

the role of the old man found in my early verses
            which was like

the next day beginning with fresh snow falling all night.

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