un ravel ing

the thread fed through

the eye of the needle,

needed and depleted

shouting down the corridors

of her own throat

 

“pull it together, don’t choke now”

 

SUCCESS

a Venetian courtesan

bare back basking in the white heat

for the amusement of an elementary imagination

 

tired of being twisted,

patching broken brains

aching since pulp

 

meanwhile, the world folds and

seeks the safety of her back pocket,

 

“carry me, steady me”

 

but she’s

u    n      r a   v     e     l    i         n     g

 

10-23-18

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