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Today I am lining a nest

with pipecleaners and cigarettes.

In this image, my sadness

is a bird, and let’s assume

not blue. Blue is the color

of my dead love’s eyes,

if I am a folk song or a folk song

singer, and in the song

of the sad morning

there are many off notes.

Today I will retire

to the ball pit at McDonalds

and cover myself

in yellow, red, and orange


I will sink to where

the lost toddlers go.

Hello, Emmanuel.

Hello Sally.

You should have listened

to your mothers.

It is poorly lit under everyone

else’s good time,

and people’s feet

are always kicking

us in the head.

I can’t imagine

any other life. 

Posted 10/02/15
Books by Rebecca Hazelton
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