He said, Look. Look. And they did. He said, Lift up your shirt. And I did. He slid his fork beneath my ribs — Yes, he sang. A Jesus side wound. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. He reached inside and turned on the lamp — I never knew I was also a lamp — until the light fell out of me, dripped down my thigh, flew up in me, caught in my throat like a canary. Canaries really means dogs, he said My Brother My Wound by Natalie Diaz #poetryposting
Kult: +10
Kull: +5
Total: 15
Ratio: 2.00
Thanks to @chillerAficionado for the Poet suggestion
Kult: +5
Total: 5