roberto santiago: acquiesce

I am so tired of being strong It’s always expected. Granted
taken for long walks into winter frost. Snow-tire black boot
crunched evergreen needle in slush, and rock-salt is not edible.

I want to be a burden. Those saying otherwise are liars
with oafish faces so fuck `em! Bearable crosses for everyone!
Crowns as thorny as an army of florists can whittle whet!

Strength is overrated. Library-hushed and bruised. White noise
hung around the necks of elephants, pink and prissy. Ballerina
en-pointe aiming towards the bar across the street from the studio.

Shoulders-to-cry-on long to weaken. Breakdown, distress
dressed in lace, tulle, frills and feelings.Emotional ship wreckage.
Sea sick. Going over, over and o v   e   r    b     o     a      r      d.

Strength is high-jumping, has javelins for hands. It throws itself
across fields and lands unto conclusions fetched-far, even for a poet.

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