Friday, May 05, 2006

Attempt #5506

I'll take this old receipt
rub away the charcoal
script, watch the white
paper wrinkle between my fingers
flutter away white dove
fingers spread--
I'll lose every coffee
and biscuit we bought
in the web,
fall through like silk scarves
a snake seems forever
consuming my youth
clenched fist--
new evidence like new kiss
printed on dove's feather
death will be quiet
when we are together.

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