She's crawling these days, And it's a joyous throwback to The wordless days, when the Eye reflects sunshine instead of tonic And there was someone, Always someone up To take over when it was too much. up up She's crawling in her own spit-up And learning how to drown. There's a certain effortlessness To a downward spiral And she's mastered it with the Dedication of a carnie's mid-night Reflections in a backdrop Of cotton-candy and ****** expulsion.
The world has painted itself white And she's the little blemish Of hangnails and spilled cognac When Atlas would rather decorate With her broken winter smile; Teeth to match the whites of his eye And shattered eggshell.
She's crawling these days, amidst Broken bottles that reflect such starry eyes The way puddles muddy the sky And house the most optimistic birds, Unheeding the poolside signs saying Shallow end. The water is dedicated to darkness And she's dedicated to falling.