nathan’s Reviews > Machete: Poems > Status Update

already mixing
metaphors
out of my body.

Who could blame him.

And if nothing will free us from death, at least love will save us from life.

When hope doesn't
rise like bread,
drink the sunlight
to stay fed.

I know when our hands embrace he'll find proof of natural selection
in the shape of my fingers, evolutionary holdovers from an era of gills