Friday, January 3, 2014

PERCHED

Last night I couldn't sleep,
twisted in the zinnias. 

The cliffs were stairs. 
the smoke alarm was volatile. 

Someone came to town 
and didn't call. 

At the water's edge 
biological palms press into 
my middle organ.

How did such a soft 
and tiny person
grow this thick?

Enveloped in crystal rock-crust, 
with rules so steadfast, 
so literally blue.










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