*****
SUPPLICATION
by TD Euwaite
As I flip through the faces
in my chifferobe,
cleft chins, chiseled features…
fissures furrowed by
tears that flowed like rainwater
over lips hung low as Yorick’s,
I look for the one with the throbbing sobs,
vibrato as no cello could mimic.
The one that moans…
Plu plu plu please!
*****
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