Image borrowed from Bing
February 6
Woke with sores on every third finger,
both ass cheeks, my nose completely
missing and yet I still smell
terrible. The halls were full
of extra-nosed grinners. I cannot
sit or comfortably type words
containing the letters d, c, e, k, i. m,
and yet here they are. Once,
I woke with no tongue and couldn’t whine.
I called myself South America all day,
but no one could understand
what I was saying until it grew back
in the late afternoon,
and then it just wasn’t funny anymore.
C.L. Bledsoe
Posted over on The Red Ceilings Press
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