Edwin Cordero


To My Sanctuary


You'd put me out,
Pissed, prodded,
Potty-mouthed,
As if these topics
Were blunted now:
Twisted, too rhythmic,
Untouted riles
That writhe inwardly,
Inhospitably wild.
Lay on the laughter,
Child.
Search chapters of grammar,
Dial changing numbers:
Found meters meeting media's
Cloud.
Sunlight comes, and in then's while,
I'll remain king of this house.

Submitted: Thursday, August 07, 2014

Topic(s): life


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