"Finding Prose in the Laundry and Poetry in the Dishwasher"
fizzles lightly in the belly
tickling the diaphragm
building up it grows
Heavier and harder
moving towards the neck,
taking over the back of the throat
pushing the tears out of eyes:
angry and dark
Salt water dripping past tonsils,
sobs spring forth from the chords
first silent then uncontrollable
All she wanted was a glass of milk.
Alexis, Monday, February 15, 2010
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