Wednesday, August 06, 2008

pregnant zombie nun run

success is counted sweetest

take a look at these--hands--
fluttering like moths against a light, with that same rat-a-tat-tat-tat,
that foreign sound.

no one expected a winner.
from the onset i wore my face against the light like
one of those silhouettes::

diamante pangs and hand-wrung tears--
a drag smile, mouth's filthy greasepaint and long false eyelashes,
my beard, my constant companion, my anchoring stream;;

what mirrored my soul was blacker:::
peering into a lacquered bowl, reflection pooling at its bottom,
like an antic color case left out in the sun, running, pregnant

with maggots. but i was wrong, i was wrong,,
i am the winner,,, i won.

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