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New Lion by Beula Daisle

My boat sunk in Mexico

Disappeared as fast as I can
record memory

The emergency of lightening settled like smell in the dusty Plaza

barefoot smoking in the doorway

Sea lingers in the nostrils,
rusty

Running mad on the beach

Bare feet burning

Chewing on sand

My eyes are salt exploding


I take a moment squinting at the cracks in the concrete

I cry out in the same way,

Reporting to a page



Kids in the street shout up at the moon

Their exclamation points launch past the mission bells

Ache trembles in their throats and punches the guts from the inside

Severing the question mark in the bend of my bone



I examine the edge of the door with my feet

Let the ants struggle past

Tilt my head east

Drop its contents by two feet

And drown in my chest



Just forget it

Dreams walk

Nightmares quit after a while

And snowflakes always melt



Shift,

Page down,

Delete

In houses,

Schoolyards,

Shopping malls,

Trailer homes,

In backyard lucid hangovers


On tops of tables

Kicking the dust from under my shoes

Breaking into hurry

Racing for the phone

The doorknob

Racing for my pen






Beula Daisle does not like hiking, cooking or watching TV. She goes to shopping malls to listen. At some point in the past she divorced life, but learned to laugh, cry, feel, think and engage with it again.
Picture
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