rhyme

store bought straw
still spun from gold
I upped my daughter’s best points
for the hopes of one with a claim to a throne

names leads me here –
and light pours slick slow
fingertips bleed and stick to stone
with the sum of all and what we know

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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