Thresher

Thresher

A Poem by JR

I stand at the threshold to the thresher

my fingers have coated with ash

mind runs on oil gone bad turned black

heart like leather, creased and butter soft

my body a stain now all dirt and rumble

there, like a clang, at the edge

of consciousness;

Anything that goes into the thresher

is changed into core components

reconfigured in the dynamo 

and cast out again in strips and ribbons

as something new

What of me will make it through?

and how will I be changed?

© 2020 JR


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Added on February 9, 2020
Last Updated on February 9, 2020

Author

JR
JR

Placerville, CA



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