This is an outtake from my latest outfit post. I feel really pleased with it, so I have to post it somewhere, you know? While I'm here, I might as well type up sonnet #8:
Homes
I live in a house making noise at night,
a small bed that is popping cold, popping
like lamps going out, bursting up their bright.
I have a cut-up throat but it will sing.
The edge of the canyon cracks. Unsleepy
creatures rustle and run. I saw a stag.
I think he almost said something manly,
but I fled. Girl-kitten out of a bag.
At school the noise is pen-squeaking. Teach-speak.
Self-esteem in five-paragraph format.
I am good at walking stairs. I'm not meek.
Won't ever cease hating myself for that.
I live in a set of soundly spaces;
I forget the call and incur charges.
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