Accolade Winner Showcase C. L. Liedekev March Accolade Winners

Swinging Neckbreaker

By C.L. Liedekev

He was the broken clock arm.
Still in the heat of the garage,
his left sneaker tipped sideways,
a car spun off the safety of the road.
The beauty of his cheekbones gone,
bloat rippled like lava hidden
under skin. So much more hidden,
the last sweat ever on your face,
days of stubborn melt into blur
and panic. The green rope dug
your skin whole, neck a snapped switch,
even now it stains a body
so done with itself. So done
with the unwilling luck of edged
grass, glass stain wife, the boy -
the void of his eyes never closing.

What grief takes is every second.
Batches them up and stuffs
the sideways in you. A closed
claw no devil man could claim,
just heat that storms up
and calls my neck home, siren
of lasso and grief, the bull rope
match of your life is over. You
swing one more time, as they saw
the rope and I imagine someone
finally catches you, as my arms 
have failed.

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