NECK ON THE TRAIN TRACKS

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Submitted Date 07/30/2019
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Forgotten heads lie

rolled under the couch

with the dust and a few pieces of stale popcorn.

 

Glass shards lay

in groups

huddling their edges for my skin to break on their backs.

 

Yesterday three people were stabbed to death on a train in Portland

by a man with no hair

and too many tattoos.

Today I ducked a golf club.

Tomorrow, perhaps not.

 

There is blood on the couch

not from this time.

I use makeup now.

 

Three dead in Portland

A war across the world --

refugees spilling out the seems of an industrial coast.

My sister dying on the other side of the country.

 

I can duck again.

It's not that bad.

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