Technicalities, Submerged.

sitting through this blatant lecture
of how and when and why
i doodle seahorses &
flip my mermaid’s tail – in time
to inward seaweed smiles.

at 8:34am i pray
(through glyphs and flowing ink),
that my hand will always be small enough
to fit into
reality’s gaps.

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Modern Health Care(lessness)

promise bubbles
drift from eager tongues,
opalescent;

we stack
our shelves with discarded humans,
label them ‘dysfunctional’,
and turn our backs
on benevolence,
while the door sign
tells hypertrophic tales,
and money-stained hands
drive
the Sword of Damocles home.