Distorted Reflections
Poetry
Poetry
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B BlockYou keep yourservices for them.You keepthe church they know.And they makedonations regularlywithone hand on your head.They lean youdown towardsthe cup.You sip the overflow.You lick your lipsand move your fingersfar apart.You have no towninside younow.You have notravellers there.Did you send themhome again?Or did they leave forbetter fare?I was the one wholanded uponyourlessened wing.You had meand then you hadyour king.I came to you abroken ring. I dancedinside10