Tattered flags
Wedding dress train
White fringe cached in dirt road
Like baggy jeans bottoms
Converse stomped but worn each day like a religion.

Stolkholmes syndrome
Maybe she would have taken off the dress for the right sandpaper hands.
Delicately telling time and wearing her
Down six months
Down eight years
Down in the basement
Ducttape cuffed to a wooden chair
Bandages torn off slow
Like a drag on a thick cigar
From fat lips
Fat teeth
Fat wallets.

She spent a lot of time on her side smashed down on her bruised ear.
From the cold concrete after tipping cedar legs
Or listening too closely

Didn't clover though
Despite the Irish eyes
She isn't lucky enough to have scars
We can see.

Green. She is tall
Held fire shattered in year 20-something
She has flash backs
When men in black
Hold pens to her nose and click

A boat from Ellis island
Rainstorm on white picket signs and fences in a dance of coin and sweat

Under long arms
Holding the hilt
Called the broken blade fire.
Say there's a mountain somewhere that matched her on tinder
Three men's faces carved into it.
I hear she used to represent freedom
Before being robbed of her flaming sword

I bet if the statue of liberty had a voice

And she does

She would wear a red dress.
No makeup
Sew her mouth shut
Love the pain
and post Gore **** pictures
on adult websites as confession.

I believe the statue of liberty owns stripper heels
And can run in them.

I believe god is a broken torchlight.

I believe being consumed by the fires of god is a metaphor
For drowning in the green shrapnel of a voice or a wedding dress.

I believe I am ready to be a statue
To drop my fire in the ocean

Crumble under America
be found in Atlantis under pounds of enough pressure
only the angler fish can tempt me.

At least underwater
Men are ***** producing parasites
And I can drown in something beautiful.