The Poem I Couldn't Bring Myself to Name
She clutched grey pigeon eggs between her ivory teeth, It was a curious balancing act that smelled of lion jaws and sunflower seeds, Her eyes held the volume of a gravedigger digging his first grave, they were sullen like whale bones sucked up upon the shore, and acid-yellow. A soulful tear seared out of the temple-corner of each eye, making a V-shape down her face like a following of birds filing home; it reminded her of the first time she heard jazz, that the world was so lonely that we had to invent beautiful things to fill it with. Her jaw rattled like an open window falling shut during an earthquake, some spindly acrobat had broke a leg and been dragged and left in some lonesome corner; All the while worry had been spread thin and hardened across her body like a cheesecake glaze, her facial muscles like wet clothes pinned up under her eyes. She couldn't crush them. Her mind too fluttery with the thought of their bird-mother squawking like some acrobat in a lon