Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Collections: Warped Passage

She cracks an egg over a skillet
and a bird flies up. Its feathers are dark
as the keys in the sugar bowl
the wallet in the freezer
the tangles in her brain.
What will take her out of the night
and into the blind spot
she mistakes for the sun?
May it gleam the sweet of her smile.
May it flicker its light upon her spine.
May it open wings-wide and beat for her
relentlessly as blood.

-first appeared in Mixitini Matrix

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