Flow & Ebb
when the words don’t flow together
let them stay separated
when the belly inhales & holds the breath
& keeps holding
it will eventually exhale
the itch in my left forearm is deep
a trench of fire tunnelling toward my fingertips
muscles make music in their own sounds
they’re confusing – all the feelings
the sifting through the falling & rolling & gathering
the translation from hum to language
there were so many sesame seeds on the
Tim Horton’s bagel – it was art
butter-shined carb art
it’s okay to be apart
a part of the ebb
VANESSA SHIELDS, writer 
Wow Vanessa,
I can “taste that bagel!”
>
LikeLike