my kindle fire did it to me again...reformatted my poem. So here it is again in proper form...
Spice
So I lay burdened
With myriad alternate realities in which I make other choices,
Dreams of shining salmon, corset strings just a pinch too tight,
Fear fierce like Turkish coffee...
Gold and trinkets for sale in a Marakkesh market,
Brass weights, brass scale,
And measuring up.
Genie or gypsy,
Genie or gypsy?
As the knife thrown to the pegboard by my head says
This is what you are.
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