Monday 6th November

AND THEN THE FLOWERS TURN PINK:

I’m shaking,
Fragile,
Black light,
Delicate porcelain cup perched on the edge of a table,

Too many nuts,
Not enough fruit,
Too much information,
Strange deliveries,
Blue flowers dancing,

Tiny woman walks in with cruel eyes,
Dressed as a raven,
Black on Black,
She repeats,
“That’s what’s so sad to me”
Then laughs,
Like cracking rust,
Hunched like her life is poison

(K)

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