Skip to content

“The Edge of Conceit” by kasey rae

March 16, 2010

The Edge of Conceit

Do you ever forget to feed your child?
Tiny hands groping at your calloused feet,
an urchin crusted to a rock, waiting
for some rations to float by, or concede.
I am a sponge full of your blood and vomit.
I soak and am fermenting, here, alone—
a mechanic’s rag: so very useful,
it would seem, yet so unnecessary.
There is an extension of your body,
a limb reeking of my nauseous attachment,
a limb waking at night in icy wax,
as close to cracking as summer rubber.
We are as close as the wind and the breeze.
We are tension below acrobatic feet.
How long before the kettle starts to boil?

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: