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Sand in the Wheels


Sand in the Wheels

 

 

you must have rubbed

against it in your sleep

because what was once

a fold now gapes, pink,

open, each clash

with the teeth next door

shoves the ice pick

another millimeter closer

to the basal ganglia,

to the freedom

of stasis in perpetuum.

 

 

Robert Beveridge

 

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in The Artistic Differences Project, 1870, and Mason Street, among others.

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