If
anger were
a number it would
be 8, twisting and
turning,entwining
itself around,
until
it
strangles
it's victim, leaving
a separation of two
distinct fragments,
still attached and
lightly touching
yet sharing
zero
it's victim, leaving
a separation of two
distinct fragments,
still attached and
lightly touching
yet sharing
zero
this. is. awesome.
ReplyDeleteThanks Sally, this is my second concrete poem and they are lots of fun to produce
DeleteOh no---one of my favorite numbers is tango-ing
Deletevery nice!