In Praise of Too Much Sugar
by David Spiering

a neutron bomb lingers inside my body
and if I feed it too much sugar
I’ll hear it ticking in my ears
and if I try to turn lemonade into poetry
I’ll be making a bone by bone
global-shaped papier-mâché replica to wear as my head
and my mind is cotton clouds that cannot be dispelled

my family history’s a tempest in a Bushmill’s bottle
and when it strikes I loose any right I have to hubris
and any ambience sharpens its political edge

even when I wish to elude those efforts and circumstances
their sounds and images
stand on my ear’s porch
and they knock on my conscience

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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