That dangerous heat, that caught
us out many times, where we stagger
through protests with torn vocal chords,
just a presence without the hindrance
of contribution.
us out many times, where we stagger
through protests with torn vocal chords,
just a presence without the hindrance
of contribution.
In bars, with neo-lit tables,
moving in packs, the conversation
far from elasticated by this backdrop,
our throats lined with sweetened spirits,
rather than the echo of dead statements.
And under dawn's shadows, taped
to pillows, our mouths exhale words
without shape, and now without
a contrived urge we can now
comfortably bask in silence.
Jonathan Butcher has had poetry appear in various print
and online publications including Drunk Monkeys, The Morning Star,
M58, Mad Swirl, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Popshot, The Abyss
and others. He edits the online poetry journal Fixator Press, through which
his third chapbook, 'Corroded Gardens' was published.
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