unprotected


all my socks are mismatched
and marred by holes made
by a nail up-raised from the kitchen floor
that refuses to be hammered down
or pried from its executioner’s palette

holes nibbled by adversarial piranha
but piranha don’t nibble, do they?
they are the swirling assassins
of your unprotected footwear

my heart remains soft to the piranhas
it’s that damned post-Jaws renaissance
the orcas, the sea serpents, the devilfish
all up from the depths and ensnared in
black VHS boxes that won’t close properly

the nail’s in front of the toaster.
everyone and everything burns.

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