but then again, at the end of the day---
at half past three in the morning when i find home some way---
i'm reduced to heaps of shining strips and glinting pieces:
strings of beads and pearls and silver studded gems on chain leashes,
bows with pins and lace trimmings to secure the pleats and creases,
all it takes for the delicacy to instantaneously fall out of array
is to loose a single little button on a fine-haired stitch that may
weave all of me together and let my insides splay
YOU ARE READING
completely unbecoming
Poetryyear three of miscellaneous poetry and the conclusion to my sunflower trilogy.
