my mother’s daughter


Please read and enjoy the work of the amazing poetry.

a woman is a poem; read her

“A wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe, and leaves before she is left.”

this is a quotation

that clings to my breast

like a damp wool sweater

unraveling itself  / somehow

perfectly timed

with the footsteps

i have memorized

to the locations of

every

single

emergency

exit

and my heart’s luggage

packing itself / somehow

lingerie lands haphazardly

in my

cardiac attaché

lined in

vintage paisley paper

if only

 the design

didn’t draw the eye

to the dents

i guess

my instinct to survive

this ardent apocalypse

means

i have to

keep moving

and leave

long before

I am left

so please

write to me

on the

imaginary stationary

on the

pretty little postcards

in your mind

a. duncan, 2016

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