Mortality Wake Up

Lying on a sterile table, white wax paper

crinkled under my young body—

a needle buried in my wrist.

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Concrete Crack Sutra

Down the Boulevard of wilting eucalyptus trees and tagged up bus stops, a concrete crack breathes through crab grass lips—

Each night under the siren filled lights, the sharp points of high-heeled ladies clip-clop like hooves across that crack by the dozen Continue reading