Michael Burch Poems

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I, too, have stood
paralyzed at the helm
watching onrushing, inevitable disaster.
I too have felt sweat (or ecstatic tears) plaster
damp hair to my eyes, as a slug’s dense film
becomes mucous-insulate.
Always, thereafter
living in darkness, bright things overwhelm.

Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea

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