Scrambled eggs with onions
No dolls, tea, or cake
Pink is for girls in the guts of a snake

Boulder with the face of a witch I knew well
Proud of the silage, describing the smell
Skinny, a tuesday, a scabby knee skirt
Cement flies in cake blood, say it don't hurt

English, just English
A good milk pod rash
Sturdy, like turtles, our head close to our ass

I'll feel so blue collar, but I don't know that yet
Some people are colors
We were a few

Transitional Jesus, or
things to hear at a funeral

Ruffled Grouse
for luncheon

Dispersement of
three finger
claw stitched quilts

I have the recipe in
my pocket

The partridgeberry
hand cut beams
sauce, bread

The line
The names
The hands

I think I had sex
With my cousin