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Monday, April 10, 2017

in the last storybook


the girl went into the woods

in the woods the girl went into the girl

in the girl the girl went into the red

in the red the girl went into the season

it was the season of anger

it was also the season of grief

in the grief the world was dying

in the dying the world was vivid

the girl put vivid to her lips

and the birds that flew out were sick

in the sick the birds lost feathers

their skin lumped over their eyes

they’d eaten up all their own toes

and just watching the girl grew hungry

in the vivid the girl grew hungry

and the red leaked out its own holes

in its holes the girl drank greedy

her tears ran fast without sadness

in the grief sadness was nothing

out of nothing the birds made a nest

in her hunger the girl ate the nest

and the birds fell into her eyes

in her eyes the birds made babies

the babies were already dying

in their dying a fungus took hold

the girl smelled the fungus like autumn

a season shat out of a season

in the autumn the girl smelled fraying

in the fraying a droning like static

in the static a wasp nicked her cheek

in the pain the world grew smaller

in the smaller the girl couldn’t breathe

one time two times three times a charm

her eyes grew a mushroom

her breath came a molting

the season went turning

the girl in the grief in the red in the girl

in the woods felt better

the animal animal her

the vegetable vegetable her

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