Biohazard

my po­ems swirl about with dust­dev­il bal­ance
the lack mid­dling be­gin­nings and ane­mic end­ings

they should be sealed in a plas­tic bag
with a great or­ange seal
and in­cin­er­at­ed

i’ll clothe my­self with sack­cloth
and rub their ash­es in­to my hair 

per­haps, then i won’t be too near to hear
the breath of their whis­pers

Speak your piece