Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Always a cigarette dangled from her lips--
the smoke in her eyes didn't stop her
she'd lost every tooth 
and most of her good looks, 
but still the will to survive
thrust her forward
into every day 
until her last.

I've lost count of the broken ribs
I've hidden in the back hall closet--
it wasn't the umbrellas themselves
I meant to harm, but how could I
punish the sky?

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