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For sad old earth must borrow its mirth

got good at hiding it,
you think.
but, someone will see you,
and they’ll know.
the things you do
that are just a bit, um,
abby normal.
the way you let your lips get dry
then bite on that thin strip of skin.
pull it off.
taste the bitter blood.
encourage that wonky hangnail.
wait for the right moment to yank.
do the red watercolours
somewhere inconspicuous.
let your pain matriculate,
bone deep.
tell no one of this atonement.
connoisseur of cultivated anguish.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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