sometimes, mama would cut
willow spruces while summer blinked
and with each eyelash it torn,
i swear a piece of her apron
just disappeared, too.
then there were splitting ends
of cut-off stories, words in
snippets, laid in tragedy
with no sunset or
whatever the hell it is
i grimaced at books,
at glossy illustrations
and dawn's the vagrant tear,
evaporated into blisters.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 7:05 PM UTC
sometimes, mama would cut
willow spruces while summer blinked
and with each eyelash it torn,
i swear a piece of her apron
just disappeared, too.
then there were splitting ends
of cut-off stories, words in
snippets, laid in tragedy
with no sunset or
whatever the hell it is
i grimaced at books,
at glossy illustrations
and dawn's the vagrant tear,
evaporated into blisters.
