a poem by Zachary M Hodson

there are recreant nooks and crannies
you’ll hopefully never see

i yaw glycerin
& swallow bone chips
every time i attempt to scream

if i move slow enough
i can proceed undetected

i think

especially as the storm tempers
the reindeer skirt for safety
occluded only by their reflections

i routinely do the same
in the bathroom mirror at work

if you look hard enough
there is something on the other side

maybe upside down
maybe pulled taffy
maybe discontinuous from reason

if you want it bad enough
there is anything you could ever imagine
a single clobber away

as long as you don’t actually do it

of course

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