They're drawn like tiny bomers
to the breath that I exhale.
They buzz around me in a cloud.
Their one thought? To impale.
I hunch my shoulders, bless my hat
and hide each inch of skin.
Yet, undeterred, they circle
and seek a pathway in.
About Me
- Jill Cline
- I process life by writing: poems scrawled on discarded envelopes, essays written in the dead of night, random paragraphs stuffed into drawers and all manner of wild thoughts in journals and on scratch paper hidden between the pages of books.
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