clamps shut on the pearl—
This flattened carapace
and aching thorax
buzz no more through foglight.
These rainbows swirl like eels,
stalking clouds of blood.
Young universe, kiss me
with your cosmic fade.
Veil me from your darkened face.
Blue webs string themselves
over the cream-chalk walls,
sticking me where it hurts.
The last light lick of morning
drips down my forearm.
Soft fingers of the river,
working their magics on my skin.
Maybe I’ll come back again.
Maybe the fog will lay an egg.
And I will poke my nose through,
an ivory shell yoked with flame,
and everyone I touch will melt
into a pool with no reflection.
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