{11/30}
4.05.18
dandruff cereal
the curtain drops with a
wave of her hands,
graced very little by sunlight
her blinds flutter with her breath,
a quickened pace, rhythm building
and escaping her mouth
she has an insatiable itch
at the mountain’s crown
the precipice calling
out for attention
she digs in, releasing
white specks that flutter
onto her clothes, a nearly
polka-dot pattern, new
every time it’s created,
produced, mimicked
soon, there will be enough
faux snowflakes for a
bowl of cereal, the milk
produced by a
steady stream of salty
water matting the curtain
she’ll have to let it air
out to dry now
Gender:
Points: 31520
Reviews: 415