Saturday, February 15, 2014

241. A fraction of a poem in response to the fraction of which you are able to give me, and the fraction you take away.

I am the princess
cutting the heads off the beast,
and I am the queen
with my hands in my lap,
waiting for you to come home.
No, I cannot see how we will collect
all the cups, dig our hearts out
of the earth and say, "let's go."
I see the dead in my dreams
and hang myself from trees,
hands like auroras.

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