Desiree
always a doorway
always an option
a multitude in quiet
a bright winged fairy
in gutter-punk drab
suppressing secrets,
hand over mouth
standing in decaying halls,
i wonder if that hand were moved,
what would come tumbling out?
choice words
or silent breath?
half chewed, tooth worn chunks
of some forgotten corpse?
or rain-falls of glitter;
a sandstorm of sparkles
in tiny squares
pervading the air,
suffocating
& inflicting lung-deep paper cuts
Copyright © Julie Forbush | Year Posted 2005
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