Sunday, April 4, 2010


she is piercings and poetry
snapping fingers like string beans
induced by words that linger
in clothes like cafeteria air
or cigarette smoke
her city has a whooping cough
just curdling phlegm and bless yous
that skip to the other room
where another girl believes
that a sneeze can revive
her sleeping heartbeat
in a graveyard of fairytales
and happy endings
one flatline brushes off
the bugs and bone dust
to bend back into meaning

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