lillypads before the trickled
creek wears holes in knees
the fleas just came out
of untapped carbonation
shaken to fatigue
infested bedsheets
Where sometimes you see
genitals hang through
the layers of a gown
with a nine week fetus
in a shaky palm
where is your fish
The quickening in your hands
slows to gasp as fingers grasp
the soft skull and the translucent
Brown bones are kindling
waiting for a spark
waiting to be snapped.
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