deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Trophy
Is this mangled heap on my bedroom floor, a slippery
Rank gold in the morning sun. I tiptoe
Carefully, avoiding the washy light it splits onto the floorboards,
Triangles of my imperfection,
Avoiding the dark letters that carve my being
Into someone I’d rather not be.
Rank gold in the morning sun. I tiptoe
Carefully, avoiding the washy light it splits onto the floorboards,
Triangles of my imperfection,
Avoiding the dark letters that carve my being
Into someone I’d rather not be.
Published 27th Aug 2014
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