Ruby Slippers
These tornadoes that shred me,
twirled on
knowing you’d one day
haunt my ruin;
use my mind for a peephole,
step lightly over my hill.
Blond curls a choreography
of sunlight and days undone.
Slim legs binding blood
to a wounded feline hanker
and a tin thin regret
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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