cracked teeth, yellowed marrow,
a canary screams out in the mines,
she’s singing my song,
“have it be the last,
have it be the last time.”
what last time?
a bullet pokes a hole through the air,
pokes a hole through her feathers,
her fair breast,
a lassoed string hooks under her beak,
cracked, reddened marrow. - turns her face Rorschach-like,
a deformed beauty
the sight is bleak,
privileged with anomalies
her wounds, twitch,
flesh riddled with breathing cavities,
a corpse bloodily *****,
she screams again,
sounds like bell chimes
a frescoed casket,
lines of paint aligned with the lines of her veins,
a mourner’s veil dances,
entrapped in the crooked wind,
not a sound,
not a sigh,
not a song,
just the sound of-
bleeding heartstrings.