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Quotidian

Kathleen Minor

Sunshine bleed over anxious knees.

Slow wake, thunderstorm beams through trees,

their gangrene leaves and pouring breeze

in over me, sight dystrophies.

Drip, drop rain on a single head

as feet slip shoes through the words they said,

arms limp, cold by the sides reread

memories, thoughts, and the pain they said

“Don’t think about it, let it all fly away,

like a bird in the sky, bright lights of day.”

Atrophy thoughts, tight sighs, dismay,

apathy rhymes under cool and gray.

Flicker sun flares through windowpanes.

Broken lead skid mark slows the gaze.

Blur brown irises, nervous seines.

Insecure hesitance, trapped, insane.

Neural transmission remission misread.

Snap—synapse black, dope, dopamine debt.

Chin rest desk, cheek press, embed

ganglion sins, congenital dread.

Monomaniacal thoughts, they cling

as the throats chokes down hot black caffeine.

Virulent time flies, night stirring

refractory lies and malignancies.

Systematic looks stare off dysphasic.

Predict systemic sick caustic razing.

Flip paper words: blind moonlit cryptics.

Lie back, eyes shut, fists nystagmic.

Feet touch snow steps, sleep profanes.

Static TV box light sound refrains

on the cloud breath, shudder, ‘please!’, then disdain,

wishing this mist was crack cocaine.

Tired lines drop into syncope

hearin’, “Hey, loosen up and relax, like me.”

But you can keep talkin’, lean back with ease

‘cause your brain doesn’t feel like a fuckin’ disease.

Spring, 2018 Issue