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My Fool

Apr 1, 2019 | Poetry

 

What is a fool if not a spindle

of spool

fueled with my tools,

gummy, the gristle still green

as if the high road, leapt into my sole mate

or whatever might have been good enough

to sustain the switch onto the right track

that spindle on the plantar surface of my appendage

On my moon.

 

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© Richie Smith 

© Richie Smith