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The Sensitive Universe

Please let me fit inside your paintings The ones where the telephone wires are Standing like towers over the burning orchards Naked lovers wrapping themselves in picnic blankets Holding white wine. Make me last. Let me be a fossil in the dust of your bones So they can date me back to this ice age They make fake snow you know Remember I dented your car that night Pushed up in metal your tiny Thighs reflecting our disturbance You dared Please let me fit inside your whitewashed molds Make a cast of my head, fill my eyes with lead Coat my organs in liquid plastic, make me your favorite piece A real beauty of a dead man Display me in the store windows of history Make vulture that can’t eat me Make worms that can’t get to me Make me famous. We dug holes in the night The earthen wombs trying to hide Our dead futures. Make these tombs Swallow faster. We dug holes in the light like blackholes In the blackblue. Make me antimatter Make me matter.
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Written by
freds-not-dead
Canadian
Published
Mar 27, 2011
Lines·Words
31·178
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