13 Fingered Corpse

June 13, 2018

Typewriter burised but not beaten.

She wonders why he couldn't see,

digging deeper yields dark wells.

 

The letter buried under her finger nail was Q.

Never thought of Q until it was missing.

It stands for quail when I think of you.

 

The letter creviced between her nostrils was an Armenian loan-

the first initial of her first lover,

he wisked her vessel off to face threats unknown.

 

She searched fractal soil for the U.

You were tucked behind her teeth-

frayed bits of reed          tip from Dali's ear.

 

It was unhidden     unlooked aperture of mouth.

World from behind her eyes held too many secrets,

soup spelling out barcodes.

 

Quaint cuticles bleed alphabet,

lurks benevolent mind scanning,

cosmic bridge in his mischief.

 

I'd rolled an O before,

giving it crutch it seemed

it needed.

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