Portrait of a Window

i suck bottled lightning
in shame’s tiny

under a furrowed sky,
the sun dots my eyes so
i mount an oak tree to
find best suited
shade for

rent free!

seems i’ve a hound’s nose
for dank, septic

but i’m molasses as
times pass so

it’s a pity last supper’s
chatter spiraled
us aimless,

i’m facing crouching dangers,
swatting the grope of

this backdrop’s a breathing
montage of photos we
outran and times

but a picture’s what
you make it,

and i just confirmed you
can scratch glass
so thin its skin

so i suspect the
portrait hung


on cobwebbed window’s
just my full mood
mirrored back

Grimy Groutman

….now to plaster its cracks.

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