Giovanni Mangiante


anguish and disorder
keep the fingers typing,
and a little wine
is always
good for the neck pain
that comes with it
when the muse
keeps you
strapped to your chair
feeding you cigarettes
until either 
she goes away
or you drop unconscious.

I’m a few loose vertebrae away
from my first collection
although I am yet to write
a poem 
about my scoliosis—
but there’s plenty of wine
for that and my flat feet.

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