rob mclennan
POEMS
 

Mark Cochrane’s “Dumbhead,” variation two

to pressure the myth,
his whole woman; other men

scandalized that i,
a gold loop, a sore

like ink-blot

a retroactive question; incline
to kill his every trace

the archivist

peeled back the sheets, a drivel
he cannot grieve

the secret is, love, lying



   
   
   

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