pert as a diamond tongue
counts vegetables instead of money
opening the gothic hinges
hidden in wooden drawers
paths of light pour out
of her limbs at rest
on the couch in break room bardo
where I'm floating on a thousand fanwaves
watching her drink black sugar
doors of heat are popping
like flower petals fed to the cinema
she likes to open up the portal
to the central nerve
feathers hold a miniature museum
rotating on a sweet dish in her magic head.
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