in the black coffee & the bruise

where all the birds jibber at 

the snow dust sparkles 

the myths are running lose & wild

a little smudge of mermaids

a scuff of torture 

a treasure chest of death—

let me scrape that soul from off

your tattered boot heel

a little sugar, a vat of urine soaked 

indigo, just perfect for all

these precious southern ladies

I slip into this deep Florida mist, the one that rises at dusk, the one, that holds tight, the giant cypress that live, on & on, unafraid, their Seminole beauty running their veins, ring upon ring, ever tiring, but never dying, I am blackened

I’m indigo bleeding, finding the whispers of all the birds & all the souls


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