Dollop, S.Martin

Dollop
By Stephen Martin


Inside
my
broken
wrist
I weep
& sleep
ugly little dreams.

Outside
beetles & bottles
litter
black
into
Satan's
open suitcase.

Above the spitting
crow is
laughing
at my
shadow-
self
-inflicted poise.

Below
a polka drab
bouquet
of flies
a filthy mantra
begs
indifference.