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Jagged Daisies

The blue dress sobbed
above yellow skin.

Even my panties rubbed
wrong. Vases of daffodils

with their flimsy voice of
stay and don't. My wrist

watch looped through
trumpet vines, hallways

of jewelry, lamp shades.
He fashioned a crew cut,

a mannequin cloaked
in guns. Frost stirring

perfume, nails stabbed
in daisies, I longed for

the touch of dog tags,
slice of muscle. Instead,

the moon slid into
my skylight, unfastened

the straps of my heels.
I fingered my mouth,

dreamed about his tongue,
his staggered teeth,

like pollen and staples.
Posted 06/04/12
This poem originally appeared in H_NGM_N Number 12.
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