on the outside, looking in

the wrongness is taking hold once more,
thumbing its snotty nose at bright inclusion.
It hugs,
with a constrictor’s singleness of purpose.
I see the willows in the warm June breeze.
I know this is beautiful.
You have told me.
I have seen,
on the other side.
But now I look, through a glass, darkly.
I press upon the clear walls.
The seed diabolic grows again,
its stinkflower my silent sidekick.
Come to me. Come to me now.

Published by

Lee Dunn

Sixty something working stiff (retired). Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher. Have been published in the Shelburne Free Press.

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