A Girl Parts the Clouds

She slid gently—a modest incline,

A misused portion of self—a spine,

A patina, attractive or maybe it’s

Just how wide she opened her eyes.


A soupçon of sky,


A fall. My

World moved.

Clouds paint faces.

A sullen shape.

A blender of words, mixing


She makes verses

Lucid; she inquires after love.


A bellowing we call night.

A cloud, she makes way,

She parts lips, in the rackets,

A striking thought emerges,

Where girls come apart;

The edge of a nerve flayed

As the sun cuts clouds

At the heart.


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