THREE KNOTS
			
			
			dangerous is the
			
man, folding poems
			into his pockets
			
			
			- like currency;
			
			
			where cardamom, car
			exhaust
			
& Honeysuckle
			
aren’t stored with
			perfumes, rather
			
			
			- with ointments;
			
			
			time in
			
Tangiers, in the
			salve
			
of a story
			
			
			too near to home
			
			
			- I am 
			
coming undone by
			warfare
			
			
			
			Erick Mertz