super

an inch of me fell off into a glass puddle
over milk beneath the surface

chickens next to the sidewalk and their jilted
tiny tridents in mud

masses of blackberries and tea leaves topple
red wine infused blood cells

;traveling, leaving, fastening, breathing

night whips its tail in the grotto
and an empty pool sets the cucumber sun

;i haven’t heard of this many degrees of murder

 

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