Motto: "There's a little girl's voice that sings lullabies in my guest room closet but don't mind her; she died years ago. Here's your blanket"
the night squeezes moon juice into my dreams
and I lemon my way through thick syrupy words
going round and round above, in my head
like a dotto train
ding ding ding!!
(Luna-land here, everyone off!!)
fantasies of the weak
begging like potato chips in a bag to be crunched
at least once
in a commercial with a second hand banner and no pride
she’s looking down to the water
grabbing my grandmother’s hand and diving
can you hear them talking
as if no winds have gone between them
swim my dearest ones
they have cherry earrings
grandma’s sewing some vanilla white shoes
hiding the knots of her youth on the back
feeling my daughter’s feet with her disappearing hands
they both look at the waters
Comentarii aleatorii