Thursday, 8 April 2010

assignment 51

If it's me, first, I would like you to
blanch and shock my kidneys
and feed them to the cats.

Take a flamenco fan and glue
Myna-bird feathers inlaid with my
lashes to the crest. Dance.

Save my clippings, keep a ballerina
box for the parts that keep growing.

And kiss me. And the other thing.
This chance won't come again.

Fire my teeth from a BB-gun aimed
at the spire of the Empire State and
fling my hacked up limbs in the water
and mix the ashes with fireworks and
hold a parade. Then

braid my hair into a Persian magic carpet
and take it to the cliff and
teach yourself to fly.

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