no more than the bird with piercing voice

Benjamin Seanor

she on the bed
her hands behind her

and I thought or I said
well I
bit

like a park her legs spread

invisible reins her neck
jerked

her lashes brittle feathered
wilted
           dropped

under hope
chest nails particles
of skin I kept

drapes I             tore from the windows

and joked I am a man who breaks
horses

her mouth a smoking
barrel she opened

releasing
almost

doves

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