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her cold hands welcomed autumn

by Brynn Dizack

i like this one

it was five seventeen in the morning
when i looked up at her
face in blatant shadow or
striking slices of L.iGHT#
through a water glass like mine
h
e
a
v
.
.
.y

like your eyelids must have been
you sleeping didn't see me watching
you sleeping. i didn't want to make
you shake i didn't want your waking hours to tremble in a day old cup of coffee
so i lay awake
halfway watching the sun rise
i drank you through the glass
on your n i g h t t a b l e
your face framed //crooked\slanting// between
warring points of perspective
between
little glasss panel countries
shattering your beauty
in their battles
their flags raised high in day old bubbles colors
stuck to the sides
taking the shards of your face
and reassembling them like a
picasso painting
it's fitting
][no pUn intended][
wrong//different^^grotesque##unproportional--crude@@be .au .ti .ful

you smiled somewhere in a dream
far away from the cold floor and the
glass of you
shimmering

i glanced out the window
the sun was afraid to
peer in on you
it hid behind the trees
casting their sillhouettes
onto your bedsheets
morning finally came like a slow polaroid
black and dusk faded to spring colors
your smile brought me into focus
and there was so much light i nearly cried.

before you fell asleep you'd whispered: "you just...fall asleep. and you die. that's it. goodbye, summer."

which i suppose is interpretational.


e
s
p
e
c
i
a
l
l
y
.......... if everyone
thought your name was molly.





04/27/2002

Posted on 04/27/2002
Copyright © 2022 Brynn Dizack

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