THREE POEMS by SHINE BALLARD

Yore Song

like pinched

cornstarch,

my body, joints

achingly sound

as i languish

toward                           farther further

when ailments

nag us motherly—

the noise :

a melodious malady,

an impatient aching,

a song foretolling

the somatic dirge—

we move a plangenttune

---

Replenish

an

adequate sea :

empties,

hemorrhage

can one replenish,

can one reservoir,

what never existed?

can—

haven't—

can't—

---

notskinny

my form

lacks symmetry

the physical shape

of me, my

e motions, unfair

broad shouldered,

skinnylegged,

lesskinny knees :

a fullbody,

TopHeavy

brand of unbecoming—

as so

internally,

e x ternalize :

this habit makes grotesQue noise

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Shine Ballard, the rote-renderer, currently creates and resides on this plane(t). @shineballard