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what did they call you in new york?
the raven faced girl
wearing red silk that chafed your thighs
when your ran to broad-to-nowhere
you painted your lips with the nectar of a hatchet
moved to Manhattan to find art
got lost in a sea of goals
midnight skies hung to dry
the city of iron and brick that knows that when each prick behind an elevator door is it
and you knew
you danced on your toes and tried to reach the sweet pickled bottom of the weak
the spineless and haggard
you found yourself lost in the tow of a *** sea
you wanted more
you knew more
but the burning wings of yellowed and peeled men reeked in your dreams
you woke
screaming annapolis and flew from the door and into the streets
and as you raced through lights that never burned
the blind child of the pied pulling the skin from your eyes and moaning
Oh, God, why?
you fell through the lens
and that's when I found you
shriveled and white like a child's thumb
and I held you in my breast to warm you
cooed you with grecian lullabies, I strummed the skies
my baby, my baby
but in spring
you were translucent
you wrestled with poetry and slammed your tiny fists blue
you claimed to be the child of petals and dreams
and splayed yourself beneath coyote moons like a newborn lily
you curled, smiling and dried face and sang to your mama
who lived between the tips of stars
who called to you with her one wrinkled song
you wanted to die
so i let you free
and when the blade made it's last curved slice of the organic bone
your lips parted
and through a meek tea you whispered
I am home
[audience clapping and cheering]