One Hundred and Thirty-Nine.


Izzy circle


thousands of eyes thawing into still lakes
little glinting pools reflecting twin skies

blades of grass punching through crumbling dirt
reaching for the sun or trying to escape their roots

the wind dabbed perfume in all 5 places it wants to be kissed
suddenly, the park benches make sense


Sarah circle


The flood left a carpet of stinking black mud through the corridors of the house where she first fell in love
And the sofa with the scorch mark from a forbidden cigarette wriggled in the daylight, bursting with blind white worms
The fridge was a kaleidoscope of vicious, fur-toothed mould and simpering fat slime
Which pooled on the shelf where she had laid her inaugural cheesecake to set before tea
The nursery crawled with chittering glossy insects, arguing shrilly over the sheets in the baby bassinette
And she suddenly knew the truth of all things: that the price for a life is always a death



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