Tuesday, February 12, 2013


on Sunday
there was a blue stick
green paper
with ink fears and promises
on it
and knees squeezed between
chapel chairs
and prayers,

On Monday
there was singing and
and trembling
and wonder
and Imperial Chicken
and layers of gold
glowing 'round her head,

On Tuesday
there was a clanging
in the clock tower
and time stood still for days
while well meaning
friends summoned hope
that could only betray,

On Thursday,
late into night,
the porcelain dream took flight,
almost at once,
(except for the screaming
and hours of blood)
and she was left
in places
that she
now longed to
never be full again.

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