if only a touch

it would’ve, or it might’ve,
it is difficult to say
the new facts, in light of,
how—twisting, each way—

they seem not to concur,
nor wholly to dismiss;
but, shrug a goodnight slur,
a bemused hello kiss

extraction of sentiment
necessarily attune
a backhanded compliment
strange blessings, a rune

angles, each direction
never settles, the dust
on overdrive, protection
on the pause button, rust

clasp delicate choker
diver’s helmet attire
never skilled at poker
far too good a liar

went all the way down,
where there isn’t very much,
but invisible frown,
and meaningless touch

©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell 

The music and poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
The music and poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell
Magus72 on Patreon - the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell

Magus72 on Patreon – the music, poetry, and madness of Kevin Trent Boswell

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Author: Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.

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