you, breathing timeless death
you pick up, second-hand:
a contact high, it slices lines
under your eyes, bruises skin,
pokes at tumors that had never been;
swallows the sweet lies
of "forever-and-"
wraps its arms around you, comforting
a bit too tight, bony, melting
gone.
First published in Every Day Poets,
2012-03-06.
That magazine is gone, so this is the copy that’s left.
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