Wrought & Found

Original poetry and found images


–By Mia Sara



Close Shave



Not all fun and games anymore, no shivers up the spine,
goose-fleshed and expectant, matching thrill for thrill,
not candy floss cyclones after hopping off the carousel,
a little lick of sweet to mask the taste of the bitter pill.

The cheerful slap of creation does not prepare you for
this sucker punch, these shackles, and this twisted rope
around your throat, balancing tiptoe on a two-legged stool,
counting sheep as your kid plays hide-and-seek with dope. Continue reading