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MY MOTHER, BLESS HER
I wait to slay the factory workers
to cut the toenails of a wax dummy.
the football fields are now empty
stabbed by sadness in their green eyes.
look now I think of battleships
hankies of fallen women
skulls of dead queens
as bumblebees spit out their last spears of life
in anger and
I will go away too
like a hangover
like the memory of a bad movie
I turn in bed and close my eyes and
sleep.

© Frank Silvanski