I STAND by Joe Volpe

I stand (a flower

dripping rain off petals

to roots


as we hang the man who

built the gallows, and


I bite my fist to save

my tongue) an emotional


amputee, sifting the sky

for someone to rely on

or at least someone

to blame stopped


in the middle of the street,

brain tangled

like cold sheets


like a gravestone

feeling gloriously temporary.


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