Just a touch

When I’m grateful
my legs shake,
trying to push up
while I fall
with all my weight.
This is
the endless monster,
the eyes of liquid
that are searching the room
for things
that may have already left.
This impossible question
to where the line is drawn
follows everything
so closely
you can barely
even see it.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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