deepundergroundpoetry.com
Hearing Mom Speaking
You don't know me well, but I can hear my Mom
speaking out of the dust and through her accordion's
cocoon. Echoing her crying as if her corpse hung the
twilight beneath Raven's cuttlebone as she skipped
the soft shoe. Listening to her bones cackle waiting
for a kiss from the devil's piper and then the dark's
polka, squeezing her accordion squeezy, making it easy.
speaking out of the dust and through her accordion's
cocoon. Echoing her crying as if her corpse hung the
twilight beneath Raven's cuttlebone as she skipped
the soft shoe. Listening to her bones cackle waiting
for a kiss from the devil's piper and then the dark's
polka, squeezing her accordion squeezy, making it easy.
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