Saturday, January 1, 2011

Fire to Ice to the Floor of the Huckleberry Inn

Because pizza demands the skin of its labor
the burn of the taste lingers in the apartment
while my arm flies 5000 feet in the year

The frozen earth demands immediate respect
a landing less than expected but it should have been
and the arm tears tears tears away

A moment passed twice
and linger in single digits
the cafe with gravy and skin
warmth of a burn frozen to folds
rolled and curled on the floor
of the Huckleberry inn

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