When I worried, they cut out the elbow rock, a calcified cyst, no foreign body.
When the blue sheet had worn so much, it tore into a half square at rest.
When he stared at nothing, I saw a little flotilla.
When war was blurry, the glass chamsa swung.
When edam was all that was left, muenster glided in, surprised.
When the triangle flap was not a sheet, a malleable unicorn fell in the tear.
When censorship and peace conflated, the just became confused.
When wing fur was the last safe place.
WienerBlog 