Wednesday, 27 April 2011


(alternatively: genetics are the most wonderful terrifying thing ever)

This man
with red socks to
match his shirt
sits on a counter-top
informs me

i am a maze of dominos
oil spills waiting to happen
too many tangles to count
of things that could go wrong

now you must remember, he says
the science of "random"
you must think exponentially
you must
mustn't be a poet about it

and who needs poetry--
i am a can of rhymes that
might just be rotten, a giftbox
rattling with riddles and risks
and ribbon-tied maybes

and how can i drop
such a boulder onto anyone
wince and peek through one eye
and call her my own

No comments:

Post a Comment