Don’t break bones to make omelets. Don’t squeeze your heart in a citrus hand press. Don’t scissor-kick in tar pits. Don’t wade into recent history without erasers and a dinner jacket. Remember the last one alive gets to run naked. Don’t let your desires pass overhead like clouds where no one on the ground gets wet. Don’t dive without irritants in your mouth to form pearls which can defend you. Don’t chase gelded angels or veiled devils. Remember you’re not a whale who resurfaces after hours of hunting. You can only be borne breech. Don’t despair when they crack your seeds in two to keep you from germinating. You are coriander and can still sprout.
David A. Goodrum, writer/photographer, lives in Corvallis, Oregon. His work has appeared in Tar River Poetry, The Inflectionist Review, Passengers Journal, Scapegoat Review, Triggerfish Critical Review, Tampa Review, among others. Other publications include a chapbook, Sparse Poetica (Audience Askew, 12/2023), and a book, Vitals and Other Signs of Life (The Poetry Box, 6/2024).
