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"twiny" poems
we slept all bundled up in beds too tiny meant for one limbed and twiny under breathy blanket quilted by your mom ​ in pokey dorm rooms loud and clambersome ​ we slept all upside down in princess bed of brass ornate and painted ceramic of flowers pink and dainty ​ pulled and rubbled out from rummage sale in somebody's front yard ​ enclosed by walls of wood a-seep with rugged deep grotesque koala gnarl ​ we slept all pulled out long on foamy futon ​ slats a-stick in ribs and jutting out ​ to wailing whooping siren sounds and tv screams and chopper chops and others' midnight lovers' fights a-pound and hot and grimy we slept all lofted up and alcoved cozy high in castle attic nunnery monastic circled round by clouds and crows and osprey wings a-soar wings a-flap dizzying up our weathered dreams with cat a-curled and purring at our tender feet and farback memories swirling sweet of bygone nights ​ of bygone plights of sleeps slept other places © 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
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Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Bygone Beds
the wolf actually exists. it's hidden in plain sight. a constant presence looming in the trees, occasionally making itself visible. if I accuse it of trying to ****** me, the crowd will humor me for a few seconds. a body covered in claw marks. a body covered in open wounds. a body that needs something other than time in order to heal. a body that begs for a tourniquet made from twiny rope. I cry wolf and the wolf cries liar. the wolf cries wolf and I cry listen. the crowd shakes their heads and walks away, whispering to each other about how I should just be thankful that it hasn't killed me yet.
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Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
who cried wolf