By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

 

The mind stays in the black

and the body follows.

 

The confusion of rush hour roundabouts

cleared up in a way I could not explain

to you five minutes ago.

 

Things are fluid.

The stairwell is a shipping crate

that dabs stretched limousines

out of their length.

 

I hear you laughing.

 

With ears

large as spot

planes.

 

The clothes

bunched in a pile

on the floor

 

like the human experiment

starting out

all over again.

 

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.


 

 

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