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Roman Ryan

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Prodigal Song, Sans Return

When words
make where
out of when
spacetime
bends.

Tell me
another
story about
a family.
I was in
one of those.

Presence produces
the guilt that
sticks between
ribs and spine;
play those organs
and watch your mind
heal.

A concrete body
becomes a politics
when it recognizes
parts. Therapy helps.

Call me author.
I'll call you.
I wish I
did.
Posted byRomanSeptember 4, 2025Posted inPoetryLeave a comment on Prodigal Song, Sans Return

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