The numbers of sin’z
scales written ,
of
her inequities is
like bells on
Christmas
morning.

Never silent She (I)

is
capable
of great

misunderstandings.

Tomorrow's multiplying
the rotations
around the

streetlamp.
Kids we were singing
And cLapping

Every time today is
crumpled.

Lights on the ground.

Not forever (me)
Again.

Sing a song of
Six
pence

inevitably.

And she died of
bleach.
Scrubbing Hands burn.

He left on a
weekday.

Today
when I was
Young.

Tomorrow and tomorrow
and tomorrow

was a play

after all.



Caroline Shank
2.18.2025