Here's to the final pretender
a moth buried in her silky dust,
a lady with wings of crepe and
a thorax riddled with scars
An adhesive sticky as tar
pins my feathery bones to these
escaping thoughts and my skull
tacks me to the table
And upon this day of departure
I am softened, my grip unbound
Strip the terror from my gauzy limbs and
set me on the emerald air
In the dustbin of this world,
scrambled chaotic with refuse
you fed our wavering mouths, easily
We slept on the floor, palm to chest
I am the proud vessel of
such debilitating fidelity,
such an all-consuming joy
Please, bind me to quell the shaking
10 March 2009, 10 March 2010
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