Avoiding the Topic
And the thin one, the beautiful
finch of them, fears what’s next

rolling his eyes back into a mislaid
valley—a moth, worm without dirt.

He thinks he can save himself
by cutting the air of conversation

but the question is accustomed
to corners, lying as it does inside

a man’s gut, growing on its own meal
of particular logic. Watch it become

a grapefruit—a miraculous child—
ruby fruit of thistle. Flowering doubt.
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