05 April 2012

Thursday in April

parenthesis parenthesis
a blanket a blow torch
etching you into me as if
you were always there
in the stillness of skin
a long day
stretches into ruins ruins fused into roots the city's ink
into a delta of roads and red lights
in April
her leopard spots like a
Picasso face peeling from the pigment
anarchic (holy)
broken (balm)

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