eat the damn pie or put down the fork — Linda Spolidoro

why are you sitting in that chair
opened palms to your forehead
don’t you know there are locomotives on your shoes
you hobbled the track all by yourself
pulled it up tie by tie then sat back
flipping pennies into the air
a field of wild flowers springs up around you
but you full as a bloated tic spit the weakest
equivocations from between your teeth

I have no more time to waste on your wooden wheels
spin something already
& make it quick
that ten dollars ten years old
tucked into my shoe unblessed
& unspent
will travel farther than I could ever possibly breathe
you awake the daisies and the black-eyed susans
will not even remember your name

don’t you know the prayer
coined between your fingertips greened
by men that whistle with their fingers
& trade in degradations like baseball cards

the wind will blow your sawdust body into the sea
& saturday will still throw it’s dirty socks
to the floor & leave it’s cups unwashed
no angel will whisper you back to life


Linda Spolidoro is a writer, poet, melancholic, and dedicated yogi. After years of questionable decision making, she found the yogic path, gave up smoking, drinking, swearing, and sex. Well, smoking.

Linda has been published in several journals, including Popshot Magazine, The Clockwise Cat, American Chordata, and Soundings East.

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