Or Death Will Come

by Michael Finley

I write to quell a loneliness
that slips into my cheeks
and mixes with my saliva
as I spit words onto paper
filling my soul with 
succulent tasting poetic fruits
I write to ease the pain
of daily low blows and
eyes that peer past 
my blackness
as if I don't exist
I write to understand
my ability to reason
and why I don't have four legs
and bark
I write to mask my insecurities.
I write to talk to imaginery friends.
I write to breathe.
I write to live.

Or Death Will Come by Michael Finley

© Copyright 2000. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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