Ashley

I knew a nurse once; she woke me with

wet kisses—she held my heart together.

 

I had a bad November. Hit the road way too

hard with vodka and lianas, all shudder &

 

ground swell, never harming a hair on its head.

For a while, she pitched a tent in my chest,

 

battled the nature of my being from within,

till a sun woke & stretched, parted clouds

 

in me—disease of the shrugged

dusted from frail shoulders.

 

With kisses, she spoke through my breath,

come morning, & I, kissed face all woken,

 

took her in every moving swell of skin. A

poet born—two green torched eyes &

 

framed to burn from heights so great, she’d

tire to climb. Not the nurse I once knew—

 

holder of broken things; she of the kissed breath,

covered in sheets so wet—No, this climb is

 

for the breaker of organs—

she knows who she is.

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