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Apr 2016
when you say you are whole, you mean this:
whispering good-morning and good-night into both hands cupped
and a tiny bird’s heart in your palms, humming

you are pointing at the ceiling,
smiling, looking forward, teeth that are chipped jealous
of the tile floor that can easily be wiped clean-white again,
shining, and square  

i am mostly cracked-eggshell with the yolk slipping out the side
and rolling down palms, making fingers webbed and stuck together,
what i mean is this: i am Messy
stained bedroom and sock fibers getting caught on the linoleum, stuck

gold-capped tooth like a sewer
gritty, keeps the dirt from going down
brown-stained lips and teeth and tongue to match
kissing the floor
wet, and unapologetic
like the loud truck that woke me up yesterday morning
and today
because i thought the world was ending
but it was just a Man cleaning the streets
a poem from february that i don't really like anymore
India Rose
Written by
India Rose  ny ny
(ny ny)   
736
   Kate
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