running full speed downhill
white ex-stitches. My Frankenstein, my albatross necklace
Hands swinging
still tucked on the cot. Those floral patterned sheets
small vagrancies. My wait and see,
the top drawer,
and silvered. Ball chain, most recognizeable as lamp pulls, each sphere neatly
Another poem like this?
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2007-2012 - Ray Henry