poem || Sheila E. Murphy

Indi Visible White Law

Trace reverb
E-rating picaresque
Rendition of perdition
Taken to fruition
Keeping roan crazed
Fit crops misted over
Sand dusk intonations
Storm faced wallowing
On the very cusp
Of verbiage for triage
If you sleep with integers
Be sure to sleep
With many more do not
Forget to multiply
Before dividing