MY GHOST WANTS

Jennifer Hanks

 
 

My ghost wants black eye. My ghost wants pink salt. My ghost wants plate tectonics. My ghost wants lost head. My ghost wants safety blanket. My ghost wants snuff film. My ghost wants me rolled in sugar. My ghost wants hatchling. My ghost wants hungry mother. My ghost wants butcher apron. My ghost wants dropped knife. My ghost wants dermal scales. My ghost wants roving eye, wants periscope kissed with fog. My ghost wants breath mints, wants cyanide in apple seeds. My ghost wants seeds crushed underfoot. My ghost wants golden fleece. Or Gorgon head. Or snakes with bellies like oil slicks. My ghost wants bird in a clock tower. Wants perpetual death rattle. My ghost wants a valley of thistles. My ghost wants scatter of dandelions. My ghost locked up like a wasp nest. My ghost wants bloody fingerprints. My ghost wants booking station. My ghost a toll booth, my ghost spilled grape juice, my ghost the low tide that exposes my bones.

 
 

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