Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Guestroom

This can be your bedroom, baby girl. I love it, I love it, she said. She ran to the porcelain cat curled on the nightstand. Pink! I love it. I just love it! I had told her I hoped she’d like it. She liked it, I’m sure, for me. A heart so old for a girl missing only three teeth from new gums.


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Four Poems @ Dispatches from the Poetry Wars

I have been known to Google myself on occasion. There's good reason for this, though. I'd say about ten percent of the time I disco...