Fit

The fist impacting my bathroom mirror
is my enemy.

So jackboot. So goose-step.

So many empty chairs
in my memory’s schoolhouse.

The viscous ashen air blinds
the smoke that carries a tallow stain.

The canvas strap suppresses breath.

The stainless table never reveals
the yellow blemish of helpless hours.

The tempest rages,
smashes rain against the inside of my glassy eyes.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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