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Order this writing in the collection book Hope & Creation available for only 1495 |
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wait for whispers
Jack Henry
bench warrant Sunday
sitting in the last pew
awaiting the final out
before tripping through
narrow hallways
filled with secrets, lust
and paramour night vision
she’s there with her big teeth,
big eyes, big fuck you stare
as my tongue winks at bursting
yarn stretch marks across
store bought convenience
a nicotine bracelet circles
my ankle, blinks red when i
get too far out of line,
there’s only so much i can
take before an alarm sounds,
my throat closes and
they push me to the back
of the line
tender word sound bites
fall free from disco trees
little birds lay limp
from a haberdasher’s stare
i linger in long hallways
wait for whispers
they know i’m coming
they leave me alone