The lion and lamb
Lie together in my breast.
In conflict they live.
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Return
Cold has turned to warm;
Spring’s return echoes one thought:
Long legs on short skirts.
Undone toilet lies
Like broken porcelain throne
There’s no place to pee
Not home
Wind as still as death
Is what remains in this place.
It is not my home.
Something missing
Something is missing.
I feel its empty breathing
Does it have purpose?
