Concentration of The Sighs
Fifteen miles from Donna’s house
they store the shadows
split off the fleshes.
Donna feels how her lungs
hold onto every breath nowadays
and how the fixers hike the price
of those inhalers one can hide
in their mitts.
Donna didn’t know fifteen miles from hers
they house the sighs.
Donna didn’t know what tightens a barbwire
inside her chest;
her lungs fists, and nothing is felt inside.
One of those must’ve escaped
to seek a safe place in the neighborhood.
Milk often spills over the brim.
One draws a crucifix and reheats the rest.
The net door swings open to close.
The TV goes on about the politicians
denying the concentration camps.
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)
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