scabby lips surround the next
mining center’s brick canyon
coiling slag and thickets
push toward the bank

without cavernous shafts and
open-pit excavation
you can kiss off civilization
but that’s not anyone’s reason

she found her first gray hair
the same night
the bars stopped carding her

now, in all of the adult dimensions
of opening that suitcase, start cursing


That’s what Woodpecker said.


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