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The Last Minutes
drinks never tasted so sour poured down throats with lumps night after night winter toiling windows rattle squirrels scratch on the gutters of our brains foreheads rubbed raw from anxiety going over and over in our minds recounting how we played the game with debts of costumes, props and stage roof slates fall off past decisions drinks never so drunken sloppy mice nibbling concern on couch cushions coming soon—house auction on court steps candlelit backed cockroaches dance dust blows silent shame in corners Poem from Heirs of November (2017)
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Flowers
Flowers stained on the ceiling From unexpected rains Hidden rivers find new tributaries Flowing into trains Drips into buckets Upon my brain do fall Wine, gin and vodka Are the answers to my whimper call Cringing Brows furrowed Teeth slide side to side Flattened veneers Enamel lost For worry and demise As the entire sky releases All but eternal doom Waiting for my lover Another sip consumed Each room has its bucket As a dozen flowers bloom Poem from Heirs of November: Poems, Prose and Protests (2017)