a fugitive from that clear tear
filled reservoir,
she had not used despite
emotional fractures,
his fracking of her loins
as a way to magic love gases
leaving stains on nocturnal linen,
it was a dimension of time
she did not want to fill,
running through avenue of trees
and answer that once and only calling
leaving vomit on tree roots,
offering to those sprites that
intrigue our fairytale curiosity ,
dark folds and long chimed bell,
within heavy breasted heart
answers writhed as a bed
of worms center of her being
and all that it withstands,
change had many prices
and used only certain currencies
that she had to pay,
was it worth it
nail scrawled words on her back
proved it
Sunday whirl
velvetmedia 