Tiny Platinum Hearts - BDrewCollier

The Goddess of lost children lurks
in Tommy's room, crouched in a shadow,
her blue-streaked eyelids
batting like wounded butterflies.

Christobel says, "ella huele como sangre".
Angela glances at the closed bedroom door
and shushes him.

A dirty sunbeam tickles the Goddess' necklace,
a chain finer than babies' hair
strung with tiny platinum hearts--
so many it would take three lifetimes to count them.

Angela and Christobel light candles, pray,
cleanse their bruised souls with tequila.
Christobel sits in his Pontiac with the music turned
all the way up. Angela washes Tommy's clothes

The End

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