they don’t make glass like they used to. once
you broke my tibia in the spiderweb. the doctors

saw your legacy in genetic strands of marrow and
asked how is the foundation of home? how to explain

doors made better walls than windows. i could name
all six species of cracking insects before they descended

to buzz lazily at the wets of my eyes. the weltlands
have a protected belt in our backyard. we visit them

from time to time. if i had eight legs the loss of one
wouldn’t matter so much. where do you find the time

to replace the edges of things? i never flinch at the
zapper’s killing hum. my carapace knows its scale.

if only there was a door made of skin as thin
as gauze, if only there was a way to go


~ Palm Reading

Image of doors taking with iphone. 
Words written while sitting on the porch.
Time Taken four minutes.
Brain on needing breakfast.

This entry was published on June 9, 2012 at 1:30 pm and is filed under CA, June, Poems, Redwood City, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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