Friday, June 27, 2014

The Anneslee Poems: Inheritance

There’s something vile
in me,
like rotten fish carcasses
baking in the hot July sun.

I can’t scrub it off
or cut it out.

Even burning it
leaves the smell behind.

It’s a part of me –
this stench.

It’s a part of the bone and sinew –
the flesh –
I cannot escape.

It’s you. 

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