Tuesday, 12 May 2015

10. Echo

Pretty as a drunken bat, she
wakes on another Tuesday,
another spoiled milk morning.

Yesterday the cherry blossom
was pink popcorn husks
scattering the streets; today

she is as hollow and as curdled
as a dozen chocolate Santas
under a sour August sun.

The girl chews and swallows
quickly, scared of the things
that rise in all throats, afraid

if she doesn’t keep up with
the rising she will choke and
spill salt and bump against the walls.

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