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{untitled} suzi q. smith I am the tick tock in your mail box getting quiet I mean what I say I won’t warn you again, it’s over It is the tip of my finger tucked inside your shirt pocket, just imagine where I’ve left the rest, my limbs hidden among you, look under your chair, I’m there smoke behind each mirror the empty space behind your eye I embrace you in your sleeping hours whisper “get quiet and move” change is necessary when you march stubbornly off of cliffs rocks are more rigid than flesh and you learn this malleability while leading into landmines and there, blood on every mirror spelling out pride and fear beastly and vicious, live with it, with me buried and hidden among you. |
