dream of hot cement steps burning my flaccid
thighs into agitation

i’m combing out my best friend’s hair (it’s the
same color as mine)

it’s three stories long and i begin to braid in
daisies and ribbons

i sing a song about birds who never make it
down from the sky

although my voice is cracked and tired, she
asks me to sing until

my mouth can no longer open on its own with
slack corpse-lips

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