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Pinstripe (Cut Glass and Novocaine)

August 25, 2013


Mongeralish doggerel, ha!
But it comes from the soul.
If the hat’s laying empty.
Then pass me the bowl.
If I can’t see you in bed.
Let me at least see you home.
Red on my pillow.
And red in my bones.
Tell me rain.
Why’d you leave me?
To face the summer alone.
Helios hammers at my window so sweetly.
That I might sleep-swallow him whole.
I remember.
Your bare shoulders.
That little crease in your flat stomach.
When you’ve nothing to lose the cards fall on their own.


From → Poetry

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