All Skin And Bone
At the crack of dawn, giving daytime its due we light sunny candles held between knuckles. Where paths lead past cottonwoods. We rise to the occasion, demure, well feathered, following up our binges. There’s been recent sight, of big cats in steel traces. Those who fear them most are those who waste away.
Think This Way
Below modern wings no bondage incurred. Justified by definition, strength even handed. In its increase, it will encourage broods of vipers. Solving the puzzles, a learned retaliation.
Cast of an arc light in its easy patterns. An eyeless light on broken seals. Allowing discovery of a misplaced box into a rainy season. Not just for oneself but for many others. Those who value life but only ones lifelike.
Waiting For St. Stephen
Stained fingers tried to wrangle within margins given a chance. Wrapped around cups, they partake of elixirs.
Brazenly boozing, under a sun’s duct A
imitating bold daylight, in undetermined failure.
Michael Igoe, city boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston. Many works appear in journals online and in print. Recent: maythornmag.art.blog, linktr.ee/spillovermagazine, agapanthuscollective.com. Anthology Inclusions(3)(Fevers of the Mind Press)@amazon.com. National Library of Poetry Editors Choice Award 1997. Twitter: MichaelIgoe5, Instagram: michael.igoe.397.