Sacrifice


Sacrifice it, the impulse to sun
then give us our daily

(oh boy)

Willy whispered
he'd copped a script: Vicodin. I nodded, breathless,
& glided on towards my private island, oars in water,
through Japanese animated cloudscape. 

The less my writing weighs...
I can't connect the beginning.
My sensational law.

To do list: fret, hit banks, rob my skin. 




Camille Roy