Blank Women

Oh I toss and turn, I’m really not myself today, can I come later after I’ve gotten over my case of blank women?

Sure says Gretchen, but I’m worried about you

No, don’t worry…your an understanding friend

The half-buried women march in the streets carrying the faces of children as if a whole lifetime can be shown in a photograph…as if eyes were rooms and lovers and jobs

Part of my symptoms and I pour a drink and climb into bed

Truth echoes in the high-rises and the odd angles carry the sounds into the sky away from some reckoning

Missa Him curls up beside me and she wonders about what I am writing

Leaders speak with silver and feathers…scattered words, jagged edges, ready upon kitchen plates…watch the mothers lift the sheets…thin, cold, and endless

I breathe in the air of Malverde and try to nap

(From “Malverde Days” soon to be published by John’s Motorcycle Storage and Rare Book Disposal.)

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