A literary name,
The Travails of Plethora:
Or Innocence Preserved,
(1740) by Sir Graham
Nigelson, or, a pied
Cloth in a sepia photo,
Under an Aphidistra on a side
Table, or, an organ’s fleshy sheath
“The surgeon retracts the plethora
So the tumor beneath…”,
Or, a purplish rash. “…a plethora
with headache, call 911…”,
Or, a long prayer of atonement
Muttered by a nun
At sunset, or…
One response to “Thoughts Late at Night When I Can’t Sleep and Words are Floating Around Untethered:”
I love this fragmented poem, it has strength in its paradoxes – a surreal reflection on excess and atonement – brilliant construction of those floating words 🙌
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