Untitled
You called out the ghost on the blank
page
barely breathing with dots that extend
its presence
those heavy black birds that landed in
your yard
like dumbbells waiting in the crook of
time
slow as feeling the escape of years
you called out white noise clawing at
the eardrum
pulled tight through the synapses a
vibration you
wouldn't need to cripple the stillness
with
you always you settling gray clouds in
a lung-made
white dog sleep out and out beyond up
one dream poured a little of its
dripped tongue
come see the white painted ones play
their best red
against pride of country turned tomato
fight
come see the dresses so holy you'd
begin again
s.m.g.
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