Chyrons run through my head

he

hollers   with the boys

saunters through   mile seven

and drags her porcelain dolls nightmare fighters

who ignore her   evoke something   that isn’t real

 

remember

scandals rammed through ears

own the tales   through an attic hole   the moods

and veins   dark figures lingering along strewn gravel

and you must forget   must do that

somehow

black widow II: my own gliomas

 Joana Coccarelli, (CC by 2.0)

cate mcgowan

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Central Florida