The Fire

April 12, 2010
Ticonderoga, Televisions and
birdseed easters we never celebrated
socks with tiny embroidered hearts
long-forgotten antiquities
of a family's
bruised knees

I've got
shallow eyes
painted red, god knows when
and my shallow eyes
will never see
black and gold again.
my bruised knees are
forever glued to porcelain skin.

I've unbuttoned
acid wash jeans, but saw nothing
only the ruins
of legs that once stood strong.
vanished, with the comet
and the greedy fire
which stole too much

death takes it's form, pinning the sun onto dead skin.
floral curtains, up in smoke





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