Sep
01
Calaveritas
From the bony ruts
of the fandango halls
frogs open
their trunks full of linen
Cold is still seated
on the hills
my ears
are opaque rooms
In the notes
of what went where
hurry has pulled
my letters tight
And this could be
the night Columbo switched
all the babies
while the women danced
The house sleeps
& realizes
its older
order
I came out
to feel the moon
little soft treat in
waxed paper
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