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A hyena often appears in my shadow
everytime I try caviar again. She has an odd

number of utters that bubble and bloom
like the keloids clustering my jaw. If I whisper count down

she disappears for seventy-seven seconds no, seventy-nine
& I struggle to stand when I look at her my

high heels melt into the floor fire
clay clogging my mouth. No I shouldn’t speak

I couldn’t wouldn’t, hyena
hisses, fissures the scene, frizzes

my hair I stare out the window & collect
an angel, dark and knowing, gliding

treble clefs, vee-ed cerulean, stop, I want to touch,
the centers of this creature, enter its mouth, evaporate

& run out, flower peculiar petunia petals
less alien, no, more strange & upset, be, no exist

in evergreen & chlorophyl dreams, wet with dew, no
no more gold chains, triple-timed dances, white no sequins

all dangled on hangers strangling
stung flesh, no, I’ll melt into a new mouth
run zig-zag, muck up the ground, shrill

eee, eee, eee, until I see the moon

until we make it there, far, far away and
and all the birds that nest behind my ears, all the tulips
I speak, all the sea glass in my fingernails, the bell height jellyfish in my

throat can float in nebula bliss free form, no free

from pencil grips & cotillion quotidians,

I’m tired.

But on the moon, I’ll starfish & dream dream dream write
a novel in my hair, pluck it out strand by strand

braid firefly light & make us all delightful
apparitions chainsmoking in stories beyond beyond

beyond this bright blue chair.

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