Wednesday, April 28, 2010

St. Louis de Montfort

we are snow pushed to the side,

wrinkled blueberries clinging to

our tiny vine.

we’re still looking. we tear out

the hems of favorite dresses.

unravel the carpet. maybe

that floorboard shakes loose.

look between the rings of

my tree. they are worthy

of belief.

all the beauty I owned sparked

at the curled ends of my hair.

I cut it off, grew greys like


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