IH (April 30,1989 / Virginia)


Morning brought a bird with the body of a man. A bird with one
big vacant eye and a beak, smooth, body a sickle, unsatisfied
motion muted by muscle atrophy as her angular, absurd voice
murmured bone echoing upon the innards of a dark steel vault.

Selecting masks, I pause, feeling yellow, flummoxed, suddenly
rash as that sweet-sweet sanitized girl, hearing all bad genes
and running, just as grace drops out like premature teeth, brittle
and bloody, tasting of dry aching curses, hollow white sound.

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Comments (2)

Powerful words and free flow makes the reader to read again and again.
the way you write is really intrigues me.and your language penetrates, i love this <3 10 chloe