 |
| Know what river this is? If so. You're infected. |
like a tapeworm
these rivers attach
themselves to your insides
when you can peer out
from your exit row
at 20,000 feet and know
one bend from the next
you are infected
these twists and turns
burned into your brain
the arteries and veins
of your life
there is no cure
for thismalady
no stick to wrap the worm
and twist it from your guts
a half turn a day forever
[Day 11 of my poem a day marathon for National Poetry month.]
