To refund all senses

Door to door this walker walks on
her leaded feet to trample herself
belated to her discovery, her artifacts.
Spotted one in a thrift store. A thrift
of better things to buy so I bought it
as a gift to the things in my head.
She fell to drinking the electric fuel
and took off again trailing pieces of her
too scattered to follow that energy demure,
enervated, a vampire making soup of itself,
once made for hearing, now or soon deaf.
The hard clap of those pieces, first the hindbrain
then the rest, goes on and goes
another way than her and it gathers on
and flows and flows by her dam a mile from here
seeking good weather, her a head cleared.


~ by Jeremy on January 1, 2011.

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