Marmalade
This orange honey burned gloppy
upon my fingers I scream
how to capture fire beneath skin and blood
how to walk without hips swaying
pendulous body feet pointed in
She can breathe and think at the same time she can
walk at dusk and foggy dawn bleary
eyed, she sees her feet reflected over the subway grate
comma inward; paragraph out
growing like a tree flaming leaves
Can you count them all? everything
labels the names for all things tossed
through my head forcing lips
to become chapped and burned fingers
to become blistered
the mind is not pink, but gray
I love the way people look when they're asleep.
By the way, I've started a new blog, with realtime prosaic rants and updates on my new high school life.
Blackberry Crowns, for you.
Title Quote: Bob Dylan, Times They are a Changing
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