Juste une fable n° 61




 dreamscapes (betrayals) n° 26  






Mary Shaw



instead of the dark red train falling from my mother's back that my father would unhook whenever he had the urge, i would cover the world in softness,

maybe white lilies,

and take the bed of roses far, far away. i'd carry them where neither i nor my brothers or sisters could feel the thorns any longer.

a true liver

a harlot liar

these are the ideas with which i was wrestling as my consciousness came to light. but also glimmering was the memory of

joseph who was not proud,

joseph who was not glad that i couldn't arrange for him

or any of his progeny 

a banquet. i was too concerned

with the cost of the meat.


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