What Remains is Almost Gone

Mother hips,

I thought every time

she passed my door,

Proud and pasty as she said

Caroline’s hand strains to touch the road

tar and night 

fuse in the charity office, 

Coffee, her favorie fresh 



her body whispers

ruby sockets

glow green from Lady Liberty.

She hugs her purse, photos spit across the sidewalk,

A missing finger, 

a knife

grips her spine, rain mixes with

shame on my back.

I tongue the alleyway,  read the brick

a fresh book, story etched into the creases.

Rust and gunpowder blend snow,

vomit in the cracks of my toes.

I hurl the Effiel Tower.

It shatters

to pieces against my office door

Caroline, an ink glob

on paper.  Apple soap

washes the stink off my hands

her hips 

whiskey descends my ragged throat

her grave

Caresses my frozen chin, everything

Nothing but a file under dust.  

Something a little different

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