I. Carcass

burns, it burns.
it shone through.
body gone. Face new.
cage open, wings are back,
fastened to my unlocked back
Asylum for the Fictionally Insane
somewhere branded on my brain
BURNS. IT BURNS.
haven’t been there since
Take the shot
bite down,
check wounds,
rinse
.
.
.

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Hand-me-down Sunshine

borrowed shapes

               shuff

ling,

              limp

ing

above earth,

                                                      escape
ing

like stems,

              reach

ing

to a glass

          cei

ling,

          find

ing

 light 

for faces
they will never see.