Poem — Paul Wolffram

Reader

 

In writing, I can’t help but
remember with intimate indifference
the vein that runs parallel to your neck.

Entering bone just below and in front
of your earlobe, where it’s riven
with vein purpose beneath

your lower row of teeth.
I imagine it throbs – with living
while you are abstracted

with meaning.

 

Paul Wolffram

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