(previously appeared at Stockholm Review of Literature and Medusa’s Kitchen)
Another euphemism for death,
another polite manner of skirting
the edge of meaning.
Another dance on the delicate blade
Makes you wonder why we do this to ourselves.
Like Prufrock eating his peach, we ask,
“Do we dare to offend with a word?”
Words, being so small and weightless,
lifted from the tongue ten thousand times
easier than a feather,
more of an involuntary reflex than a
Where did we drop the spark of connotation,
for we cannot see beyond the blackened
sudden curled mass that was the floor.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His work has previously appeared at The Stray Branch, as well as Gargouille, Origami Poetry, and other places.
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