They Will Sew the Blue Sail

Bad Love Song | E. G. Cunningham

There’s a way out of this

sketch. A mercurial self,

the self convex, tubal ligation,

atrium blown open, & there it goes.

The same history of over the top.

In dawn the line out is long—

we’re fenders on the body asphalt.

& we’ve over-stepped

the resounding drone of those organs

just for a say so, but now that’s resting