Strained

By Thomas Garback | @tcgarback


I try to keep facts in my head, like straining stew, the pores

widening now or narrowing now, or luggage on a conveyor belt

passing under the x-ray scan: my stubby spot of comprehension

where strings of silk slip down to blindly catch at corners, often

flailing


to steal so much as a coin and

then the gear, so quick to

exit, continues along rubber

plains,


adding to oblivion. I am

forever mortal, my dearest

companions


unmortalizing angels.

I do not mean for them to follow,

though I follow them.


RECENT POSTS

We want your art!

pitch & Submit here:

© 2020 Wack Magazine