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and it died
in her arms.
.the wolves are
dragging their teeth
across the nape of
all the moonblossoms
in the garden.
deep jade foliage
hidden among the
soul-canopy within the
i've run through
just to hear
she only takes cashthe girl with the giaconda smile
finds jesus on a monday.
he's a good fuck,
scripture strips him
and gyps him phallic
.i miss the way
flit just-a-crack opened palms
when we thought catching wishes
meant we got to keep them.
we never learned that
scar and past eighteen
our whole lives
back in the toy box
where you keep that
card you put in the spokes
of the bike you fell off of and gave you that scar
in the first place.
To My Biology TextbookOn page 159 of my biology textbook, it reads,
“...cancer is the uncontrolled growth of cells”
as though that could explain everything,
and I thought it did for a time.
But my textbook never warned me
that his skin would pale
to a point where I could see
the blue freight trains
carrying eighteen pills
throughout his frail body.
My textbook never warned me
that his watery irises would freeze over,
that he would hurl insults like knives,
and that he would clench his jaw
as tightly as his fist clenched his wine glass
because the only person to blame is himself,
and he can’t swallow that as easily
as he can the olives in his martinis.
And my textbook never warned me
that it would be this difficult to breathe
because of my acute awareness
that his breaths are limited,
and that there would be nothing I could do
but soldier on searching for that silver lining
clinging to these foreboding thunderheads.
.i've been breaking out of
hell, but the devil don't
he slips a return ticket
into my pocket and says,
you're gonna wanna
use this, kid
evolution poembut I believe to seek unbecoming
is more cultivated than stretching
out the leaky fibers of a semi-
circular self-image until they
spiral into uncontrollable
forests, cauterizing eyelids;
like picking bones out
of a salmon's chest.
1i've heard you swallowed mountaintops
kibbling them with a chortle
i don't know what you crave
down the nape of your neck: a flute?
nibbling a lotus
my gaze is nailed to the train windows
i am fascinated by how
you begin to exist
shadows are cheap
anyone can bluff
with a little mystique mascara
i know you swallowed mountaintops
i know the rocks pricked your skin to emit
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