• Bethany Stimac

accretion

my week has gushed

into a slush, a

gloopy past-tense stew


eat it up, little pup

i had thought you knew


for while i brew

and bubble and screw

over my clockhand’s

forsaken cuckoo


i pry my worldview

up like a corkscrew


and try to subdue

all that eats true


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