“happy birthday.”

the Romans left

out the tails
from the tales
of mer-

babies. but those babies
aren’t real.

I’ll invert death,
snort power,
with powder
for the

babies butt. those babies
aren’t high

like ancient pitchers stained on
display, pouring Sedgwick’s stare.
She blinks twenty-one times and
fades: the coming of Christ…

I’ll have my chance on june ninth.

they call it my birthday,
I call it a conspiracy
forged in concrete
around babies feet.

I’m pinning this tale
on the donkey,
blaming the Romans
for everything
and, come that fine
holy summer day,
I’m wishing to be turned
into a mermaid.



About Robyn

"If you haven't known insanity, you haven't lived."
This entry was posted in Addiction, Life, Philosophy 3308 001, Recovery (USA) and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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