Friday, June 3, 2011

bottom of a bottle

These pills were swallowed &
now each has escaped my hands &
jumped to the fiery pit.
Tea, crumpets &
sopa de conchitas will follow suit.
Bubbles &
bile accompany them all.

These pills disappear with the rest of the acidic solution.
The aches will return, each &
every one of them.
&
I will fall.
I will fall into my very own grave.

The tea will be alone &
the soup will be cold &
I will fade.

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