
Criss-cross, sew a stitch,
Watch those lips begin to twitch—
Completes the old phrase,
Life is a real nasty bitch—
Look up out that ditch—
Don’t remove your gaze;
Best buried than burned a witch.
POET’S NOTE:
A part of the Truth, Applied collection. This poem debuts my original Counterpulse form.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.



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