Sunday, July 30, 2017

Red Lights, Vol. 13, Number 2, June 2017

a trunk full
of frayed ballet slippers . . .
your feet,
broken reminders
of the pageantry of pain

we march
in our pink hats
s t a i n e d
with the blood
of our bodies

bouquets of clouds
on a cornflower day
wherever you are
I hope your wild blood
is singing hallelujah

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