Sunday, July 2, 2017

Poem 132: Ghost

A meth-ghost she was
at least I thought it was
'she' but truly
it skills not
to gender the meth-ghost

as insubstantial as a bag of bones can be
a carp-like mouth
skull in jagged detail
hollowed out eyes
almost too
fucked-up to see

but human I suppose
and I suppose American

though there is nothing to be found,
nor shall there be, in terms of relief
no coverage for her methed-up teeth
or any plan
for the physical damage
of which she is somewhere near the center














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