POETRY
Bruxism
Wish I could see the nape of my neck
Teetering on canvas etched in kaleidoscopic color bleeding into Word after word Afterword. A defined, refined inconsequential work Of blood and bone Cloaked in muscle and sweat Eyeline crisscrossed like chameleons The bobber of weaving, they Called me. Before this night. Catch my drift with a left hook Southpaw? Ambidextrous, actually Matters so little as Momentum (not) my friend ‘Fear his return’ slogans aplenty, Yet I haven’t? I’m not Getting out of this in one piece. Teeth taut, knuckles closed For business this time Colt-like and shameful Rue the times I thought I rued The roost. Bronzed panther, can I eschew? Jaguarundi seeking sound Brigadier, raise the alarm I’ve arrived At checkpoint Charlie. Crowd nonchalant and Passive. Head down The beating of the drum Reverberates inner-ear Silence, Left. Right. Glockenspiel bespoke Tame this viper, man in white Shirt yowling gobbledygook What? Make sense, cannot Comprehend you speaking In tongues. Sweet relief beckons Adversary off my back Flames lick my hair from breath Puff and pant I’ll stand to salute Who bested me, Snowblind. Hello, blood pressure when did you Sink To my shoes? Nonplussed now gorging on gauze Tears mired in red.
© Edward Swafford 2023 All Rights Reserved.
