Kevin Larimer

Prosthetic Realism (3)

Dear hypochondria,
it is cold in the plunge and deep.

The difference between being pulled
and pulling is a knot in my stomach

and I worry every all the time
go blurry into sleep.

I need a fall to bed down in

if only for an altogether other
kind of lonely.

is a friend I call anemone.

Flower without petals, room with no light.
I'll take a break for the sake of brevity.

Before begins once this is over.

Having never known this
would be somehow better,
ever after on a platter.

There is much later at the end of waiting.

Tomorrow I will buy a new pair of pants.


© 2003 Electronic Poetry Review