Traveling Light

by Ronda Piszk Broatch

I carry no hatbox of   agony   no sack of straw  gone to 
seed     nor seething sea things in deep blue shade. 
Leave him she said  hung up on dial-up  stuck fluxed     
between foreplay & latte.   I’m sure it was     
unexceptional  she said again    fox sedge fox edged & 
burdened with  truth.  I carry no birdcage no bird caged 
no mind’s-eye of what it’s like to be bone persona   pro 
tempore goddess in a tower   locked from the inside in.

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September 25th, 2019

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