She touched me (caught by the stillness of panic in her eyes) and rode my thoughts like a flame her skin spread across my nightssky. Her softness closed around my hand. (she nods as i whisper) ‘i read your chart . . . and suspect many things . . . None i know.’ (her hair falls upon, covers, me) ‘but you will be beautiful again.’ i, (one finger looped about my dead mothers limb) rise early but the moon fell before daybreak Eyes open, but vision slow to rise, i mistake its place and her movement. She fed me. i, (mourning her shrinking breasts) looked in as green drove blackness to a pinpoint and found myself clasped in green falling, on a nightthread held secure Her seeing is rhythm just behind my ear i feel it Throbbing and ride fall ‘you could be beautiful again’ and i could rise (head erupting thru her sky) i am only one of many children most of them memories she keeps bruises on a pear my face is brown with fallings i, (one finger looped about my dead mothers limb), am blemished She found me so and shook me free: released breath and Heaved me She gave me flight (without wind) i sank into the folds of her skin clothed and slept. At dawn she drinks turpentine (to bring it off) and deposits my body in a greasyspoon toilet finishes a cheeseburger (drink another coke) ‘but i am not aborted’ only partially slain my finger severed, i swing free (my dead mother laughing at me). Dream ends, sunlight grows. its burnings recur (her body!) constant hallucination my drug a lioness (softly her claw slides into a vein) i am air, sleeping within her, easily consumed, my desire orphaned, drowning in a toilet waiting to flow
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