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Orchid

May 4, 2013

fiftythree

Blood-drunk and grieving.
I watched you there, sleeping.
Beneath crimson skies.
Melting like plasma into plastic.
Frostbitten and frantic.
From those mortuary lies.
And my hands were not my own.
Gnarled and trembling and thrown.
About your skinny neck.
Dog eats dog eats man.
The blood that ran was not my own.
Man eats time eats bone.
The way your skin shone in the dark.
Sent Vicodin shivers through my heart.
The birds stirring on the wire.
Sang for the grave and the waking of dirt.
For the red and the life and the fire.
So I left you to their coming.
The sun don’t warm me anymore.
Child drinks girl drinks whore.
And I waited for the gloaming.

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From → Poetry

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