Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP9 - 'Kodalith' by David Lloyd | Page 16

Spine
Januarized runnels bear down,
Open back into this thing they
Carry forward: acrid taste of
Burnt treacle or some other
Unworldly afterglow. Failed
Wings at the shoulder shrug
Pain to the floor, it slips down
From the spine. Easy. Easy on.

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