By Sara-Mae Tuson 

the imbrication of his life and work began slowly
until the two twined so tenderly
it was all he knew of love.

buried, a penumbra clung deep inside his heart,
becoming a susurrus wisp inside of him
until he could no longer ignore it:

the organ became a
bitten back logjam
of longing.

to calm its ceaseless whims
he imagined myriad diseases
ready to carry him off.


it was the rapid sidewinder,
                      a jagged swipe from a red Ford Fiesta,
                                            that did him in.

1 thought on “Workaholic

  1. Pingback: The event on Friday 6 February | Until Only the Mountain Remains

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