insipid but still you curl your lashed tongue and leap like a leopard at my feet feral indeed your venom spit through cracked teeth you spew hatred like fire feeding on dry boughs withered branches and dead vowels that use to mean something to someone in need lost egos and soulless bodies left in a heap of black ash whispers of failed bureaucracies minted inheritances and shotgun marriages sealed and consummated at the end of long-gun barrels never proposing just grunting— then taking.
©Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Bogdan Pasca on Unsplash
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