she swept her collapse under her bed
nights ran her fingers through the dust
knelt in prayer to cover herself, tossed
moonlight particles visible through
cracked curtain, humming the bird's
song of reds and yellows and whites
phantoms from daylight, green clovered
specters charred grey, tugged by rain
fingertip sores, eyes pussed over, ache
counting minutes to eat hunger, low,
a plane beats it's way through summer
breeze, carries her inside its fuselage
leaking fuel, realizing the tank ruptures…
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Posted on September 18, 2008 at 12:15pm —
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Peace,
Stefan