Tuesday 5/05/2009 12:45:00 AM

Parts of the apple were on her dress. Little red aliens. With the lipstick on their eyelids. Nothing unusual. Other than the ladder at her window. The little doorway in the glass. Flaunting its hinge. Buttons. So many buttons to press. To open it.

Try this on she said. Your old skin. Good. Now. Show us. How you escaped it.

Step inside. See how big it is. Don't you recognize yourself. Same person. Different lies.

An abundance of wolves in cocktails gowns. Thwart the celebration. Don't you sleep the same aas you are now. With your eyes closed. Your breathing shallow. Vulnerable to the softest invasion. Thoguhts all athread. So easily broken.

Little matchsticks. Their sulfur heads coaxing the stone. From inside of missing windows.

Try this on she said. Ragged cancers. Mundane addictions. The placeboes of tired flesh. How does the future fit?

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