Skip to content
February 6, 2018 / barton smock

untitled

while covering my mouth with a bruise from the robot’s vision board, I wheel our son past a group of seven men arguing the age gap between the first and last immortal and remind myself to appreciate the comic timing of those who move freely from one diaper change to the next without putting a small toe to their lips and I forgive them their privacy and their resting arms and I forgive them for believing absence is a straight line and for the one pair of clothes they don’t have to wear because god is a bad kisser and like that I am lost like no hand that’s been laid upon the chair of this frail evangelist

One Comment

Leave a Comment
  1. barton smock / Mar 12 2018 2:37 pm

    Reblogged this on kingsoftrain and commented:

    edited, slightly

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: