by KJ Hannah Greenberg
My great Anglo accent
Vacillated,
Dithering here and there, as she
Rubbed her palm,
Over leaves used to neutralize
Poisonous creatures’ puncture wounds.
I remained inclined,
Believing
That no tincture of stars,
Carambola, or otherwise,
Presented juiced,
Could relieve such pain.
By living the rudiments,
Dictated
Through grapefruit’s enzymes,
I’ve inhibited not only isoforms,
But managed, as well,
To broadcast nothing delicate.
Today needs no false
Accusations,
Through which mistaken behaviors
Can be hung
By their heels;
Tomorrow’s time enough.
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