(Words by Eileen Conner)
Diagrammatic, your overt hand and overwhelm.
I am not green. I am never in the straw.
I glow blue as hurricane tipped
Upside in the rearview mirror
Like a saint, can’t ever tell who’s in the house.
I lie in my bed of leaves
Faltered, chasten, pilgrim
Bleeding at the scalp
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