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Deeper Than Dead

by Mylinda Rives
copyright 12-22-2010

Age Rating: 10 +

Here burns my candle
a lamp to my feet.
There were no stars shifting from day I was eaten
as carrion prey for the dark side of midnight.

So cold the river,
parts of me goose pimple under ducks.
Way down north my hair ran across asphalt ribbon
while I die to tell fault by others.

I can breathe again with that air,
fresher above the below.
I'm Amish in a little black dress going gothic
taking one step to see the world in a map.

Gas pump gave crude awakening
with prices blown about,
gone with the wind.
Just friends was a help,
they pony up ten for the money
as breeze tease their neck,
scarfing down fly away hair.

I still believe the Super 8's map of true places
lead somewhere from nowhere.

Hearts been cried out from make-up break up relationships.
It was a page of madness ripped from our diary
before I had guns,
well traveled.
See how they fall,
love dares from plastic petals shot to hell.
We were pushed over the edge,
of a hill with E for empty.
Air doll and balloon boys made red faces
but color me shameless
when tomorrow is a lie and truth is today.
Stand-in wife I will be
since harvest teems in gleaning.
As husbands go,
shadows of his smile fell on me
while first love shines on as a beacon.

We see birds of youth flee body of death
caged in aged at a barn cafe.
Stuffed owl obese with sawdust have beak peaked
with the naughty but mice.
Dead do tell tales
but my folk tales make vengeance a rite of passage to heaven.


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