Stitches. (Everywhere)
Missed Connections in Manhattan
Stitches (Everywhere)
come hither, love’s dirty equation slithers
put together
by sunken rivers
unbreakable chains
slinking every contagion
in slivers
young prices to pay
at the gallow line
one too many
urns of wine
spread to pay
in this cursed land
forsaken friends
blessed tans
the feeding has been endless
frenzied ills to white eyed pills
and in diatribes confess
frozen chills and rapid stills
hearts have burnt
truths have wavered
faces turned
and time deferred
there are no seams it seems.
Her Two Cents
There are so many lines in this poem I enjoy, but the very first and last are my favorites. “Come hither, love’s dirty equation slithers” is both sensual and ominous and sets a bacchanalian tone for all who dare to follow. Just because something is seemingly seamless don’t mean it can’t be torn to shreds.
