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Happier Endings

I shrink in the night.
Like any woman waiting,
Raggedy Ann bleeds sawdust.
My flesh hangs loose
on a borrowed frame,
as though I were laundered cotton.
Alice drinks from curiosity.

In the end,
a man
is three wishes
and no more.

Some assembly is required
to tell the truth.
Feast on a French theme–
cue the romantic music.
Like a brightly painted
wood decoy


attract my attention:
the story of my life/line/lie.

I dream of a genie’s lamp.

Truth disappears.

Thistles grow in the cracks
of the lines
I write.
I need braver words.


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