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Thursday, July 1, 2010

"Hey Bridesmaids"

Untitled


"Hey Bridesmaids"

Hey bridesmaids, its spring:
The leaves are rotting on the trees
The ground is soaked, the sky
Molds over with clouds. So,
Enough already-
Leave the gaps gaping. Don’t
return the gaze, pick up the phone. Leave
your drink on the nightstand,
next to the scissors and wicks.
Put the yellow pages away. Abandon the den
to its own devourings: choose the highway.
The side lights tower over: alien beacons,
speeding you forward--towards what cold portal?


Get your neighbor to tell him,
if he ever comes a-knocking
fired up with false cheer, at August’s gilded window:

“You made me wait.
Nobody makes me wait.”

after O’Connor


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