Pale Purple Blueberry Baby Guts

Julie stared at her hand--

An arctic starfish of frozen extremities.

June felt her hair--

Hanging straight in the loom of antiquated clips.

May Jay Johnson, rolled to the bakery--

Her complexion is ruddy like a rose bobbing from the open top

of her anorexic two seater, vomiting pollution into the town she

idles in, smiling.

April showers her sister with gifts.

Her sister is a blueberry about to burst pale purple baby guts

In that blue stretchy shirt, she imagines. Fronting delight

over jealous leaves of poison, looming behind the dark shade

of menace gathering in her green eyes, she hands another gift.

The End

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