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annie panos is unavailable

by Brynn Dizack

oven burns on
backs-of-hands take the
longest to heal when
watched by
two sets of eyes
we were
picking the scabs of us or
letting them fall apart gradually, i
can't remember which

there were four of us in
our bed that night
the two of us and
our shadows kissing on the pillow beside your head
that night, the
last time i got to hold you
while sleeping, the
last time we dreamt of candycorn and coffeepots
between two mirrors in gold frames and
pictures of the children smiling

hard decoration pillows
& a grand piano
one pedal golden
broken lying on the floor beneath
lace doilies on the
bedside table
i woke to the sound of
pre-recorded churchbells and
the sounds of
children
chasing
dogs upstairs

she was
s c r e a m i n g / i was
sitting up slowly

i separate window-blinds
from window-deafs
and window-mutes

and suddenly we were all three
you never cried
tuesday came and went
red light
pouring into the window
from the stoplights below

who changes those bulbs when they burn out
or do they ever

i love you

but green arrow means

go

02/16/2003

Posted on 02/17/2003
Copyright © 2022 Brynn Dizack

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/25/03 at 06:37 PM

Unique point of view with interesting character meshing. Excellent poem.

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