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the golden thread

lower me through 
a crack in a carnival mirror
.
I'll send you up a postcard of a dream
.
scratch 
.
and
. 
sniff
and you still
.
 won't have a clue
until
 I tug two times on the golden rope
and pull you down
                  to me
head first into a pile of peanut shells
with red stained edges
from the lips of clowns
and tightrope walkers
              racing the rain 
to the makeup mirror
spiralling down the golden thread

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About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

2 responses »

  1. Tags and titles powerful, too. ~ RK

    Reply

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