Wearing a cardigan
Due to inclement weather
And there’s no message
Inscribed either in the top
Or bottom of the bottle
And I’m stuck in the middle
Of the universe trying
To clear my mind in preparation
For rhyming meter or blank verse
Though a paper cut may give rise
To a daub of blood upon my brow
As I prepare once more
To assume my forgetful state
Let the real world slip
A continent or two away
Though I remain incarnadine
In an inconsequential sort of way
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| From the Extension Chord series by Brad Melamed |
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