Curl your twigs around this waist
and poke at the center of the base
Roll marble fingers on the sand
this sound is paper fires and strapped heels
Along the jellyfish streetlights
the concrete bulges like makeup
Here stone man tae the knife fingers
that I have in my pocket and trace them
along your wrists until they peel
The night is dumb with heat
your arm is so fragile that it melts at the elbow
Clouds shatter endlessly on themselves
as the moon triangles
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| Source : Little Dog Vintage |
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