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The Up Side Of A Flip Coin
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by Adam Pomajzl
keep your knees
buried in trenches
fingers dug in earth
in creases
expressions plastered
on this thin space
between we and window-
it's back spasms
that's holding us
up at night.
this day passes
in a withered wash
formulated by
a shelf of books binding back
a choke of tears
a white of knuckles
a furious glare
that snuck up
in the form of a glance
with first thought,
but shuddered
before blooming.
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Adam Pomajzl
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