© Beth Roberts |
AFTERBIRTH Second born, of
premature heft and a hundred red, in the air and on the bed, maps where
God slid.
LEGS Air where they
were flexing doubled, God-red.
KEYS Extensions of the digits, especially
index, pinkie clink.
MIND A day so white,
what did it matter I wanted a little red.
WAR Too red meant we were losing and losing
it.
MEMORY Lost too, we were meaning and
meant it.
BABY I knew you when you were
alone in your father's mind, and, milli-faceted gem,
demolition, a child's desk, red.
OBJECT Saddled and bridled Asian horse, two
inches high, jade and gold, nostrils flared red.
MELODY Fabricate with a bright thread running through
it.
LIST A small thing to save me, written
in my body, and read there.
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