ring

street maps of plausible

she seems to talk but here
is where the similitude
crosses over. lethe and trappings
of a next move. what do you want
to be when you grow up echoes
in the void that begins inside

stretches to the last beach
the last wave the last time
he kissed her. since then, it's
been a fractured fairy tale:
pumpkin rotting, godmother
wicked, stepsisters chosen
from listless bridesmaids, their pale
arms barely raised for the bouquet
which can only be dead
roses. she visits grandmother

in her red rimmed weeds. pollen
fills her lungs, she drowns in it,
spits it back out. the bell she brought
is cracked and flat. no need for wolves
to entertain her, she brings her own
monsters, projected/injected
a circular argument racing the parabola.

when she meets him he has extra voices.
they've been dribbling out of his ears for months
ivory thru scrimshaw. she opens her mouth
and loses her shoe. he neglects to pick it up.
in fact he doesn't even see her.

hair tips frosted. goatee
open mouth. how
did she ever love him?
how does she.

age three, a declaration : i'm going to fly.
at seventeen: i refuse to die.
in a backroom, the vacuum waits.